


Hitchhikers

by signifier



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M, a spontaneous fic we'll see how it goes, bare with me here, but its not the main focus, has a murderer ever picked up another hitchhiking murderer?, hinted shyan, hitchhikers - Freeform, ryan needs to calm down, someone help shane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-06-15 19:29:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15419967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifier/pseuds/signifier
Summary: You shouldn't pick up hitchhikers incase they're serial killers. You shouldn't hitchhike incase the person who picks you up is a serial killer. Has a serial killer ever picked up another serial killer and become friends?-"So, what's your name?""C.C Tinsley." Like fuck it is. "Yours?""Goldsworth. Ricky Goldsworth."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this might be a bit slow until i've finished my axeman fic (which u should check out if u havent already ;)))) but the idea was calling to me and i had to write the first chapter. hope u enjoy!

Hitchhiking. It’s normally advised that you stay away from picking up hitchhikers incase they’re serial killers. Yet, you also shouldn’t hitchhike incase the person who picks you up is a serial killer so theres really no way to win in the situation. Either way, you might end up with a murderer on your hands.

** Ryan **

Ryan drove down a somewhat secluded, forest-area road, taking solace in the dark night. It was around 3am and he was happy to be the only car around as he flew down the tarmac. He had a job to do and all he needed was a nice opening into the forest so he could get the job done and move on with his day. God, he wanted sleep. Ryan wanted nothing more than to just lay down and rest. His upper body ached from the hard labour of lifting a very heavy object into the trunk of his car but he kind of brought that on himself. You see, a not so pleasant man had pushed Ryan too far into a not so pleasant mood and got himself killed, what was he going to do? Just leave the evidence? No. So now he needed somewhere to bury the body and thats exactly what he was looking for.

Ryan rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking a few times to clear his vision. He allowed his eyes to fix on the hand still clutching the steering wheel for a few seconds. His knuckles were turning a violent mix of purple and blue already and one of the cuts had opened up again. He sighed. He’d have to find a pharmacy somewhere tomorrow and deal with that. He looked back up at where he was going.

Out of nowhere, a man ran out into the middle of the road, causing Ryan to swerve and slam on the brakes. He felt a shift in weight towards the back of the car from the sudden stop and cursed. He looked back towards to the inconvenience of a man that was walking rather quickly towards the open window of Ryans car. He’d left it open to help him calm down. “What the fuck, man? I almost hi-“

“Can you give me a ride?” The man spoke fast, throwing an almost panicked look over his shoulder every now and then. He was wearing a black and red flannel covered with a light brown coat. He had brown eyes and brown hair - maybe black, Ryan couldn’t tell much in the dark of the night. However, what he could see was that the stranger was quite pale and seemed to be on the verge of sweating. He wouldn’t stop fidgeting, shifting from foot to the other and looking over his shoulder back towards the direction he’d come from.

Ryan blinked a few times. It wasn’t often that something rendered him speechless, but he was truly struggling to find the right words to deal with this man. “You’re a..hitchhiker?”

The man curled his hands around the base of Ryans lower window, clearly having an internal battle about whether or not to just rip the car door off it’s hinges. “Yeah, sure. That works. Can you get me out of here or not?”

 _Odd choice of words. Odd behaviour._ Ryan cast a subtle look up and down the ‘hitchhiker’. He was tall, Ryan could tell that much from the way he had to bend down to fit in the window frame, but he didn’t seem like a man of much strength. Ryan decided he could definitely take him if the need arose. He would simply take this man into the nearest town, hit a pharmacy on the way and then avoid all cops until the night where he could finally be rid of this body. He could survive one more day.

He nod his head towards the passenger door, watching as the man crossed round the front of the car to get in. The headlights illuminated him as he past and he squinted at the light, bringing up a hand to cover his eyes. The coat slid down his arm slightly, revealing a pale wrist that Ryan could have sworn had a dash of red stained on the skin. He blamed it on his tired mind state. His new travelling partner got in the car, doing up his seatbelt and trying to fit all of his limbs comfortably in a position. Ryan started driving. “So, what’s your name?”

“C.C Tinsley.” _Like fuck it is._ “Yours?”

“Goldsworth. Ricky Goldsworth.”

 

-

 

**Shane**

His lungs were on fire and he was almost certain he would collapse if he ran any further. But he had to. He had to put as much distance between himself and that house as he could if he wanted to lead a normal life. Well, normal would be pushing it in his case. Shane used his hands to block branch after branch from hitting him in the face, hoping, _praying_ to hit a town and be able to hot-wire a car and get the fuck out of Illinois soon. He could see the trees start to thin out as he came up to what looked like a road, not even slowing down as he sprinted into the middle of it.

A fucking car was coming straight towards him, swerving and stopping at just the last second. Who the fuck was on the roads so late at night? The blinding headlights stopped Shane from seeing whoever was in the vehicle so he made his way towards the drivers side window.

The man had dark features. Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes - he was even wearing dark coloured clothes. Shane could make out toned muscles under a well fitting shirt. _Fuck_. There was no way Shane could take this guy and make off with his car. He relied more on lies and manipulation to deal with a situation as he wasn’t great at hand to hand combat. He could overpower someone weaker, sure, but that was mainly an advantage of his height, and not his use of skilled martial arts. Or he liked to use guns, but they were loud and often left too much evidence behind. Shane was pulled from his thoughts by the voice of a clearly not happy driver. “What the fuck, man? I almost hi-“

 _Spare me the obvious._ This conversation had to be quick if they were to make a clean getaway. He threw a look over his shoulder, the mix of adrenaline and anxiety creeping up once more. “Can you give me a ride?”

The man was silent for a while and Shane’s nerves only grew. He shifted his weight from each leg. “You’re a..hitchhiker?”

 _Jesus fucking christ does it matter?_ He took a step forward, grasping the top of the window just to have something to do with his hands. “Yeah, sure. That works. Can you get me out of here or not?”

The driver thought for a while before gesturing towards the passenger door. Shane could have cried with relief. He made his way round the front of the car, shielding his eyes with his hand before reaching the other side and climbing in. He would simply allow this man to take him as far as he could, and then he’d find a car to steal and he’d be gone. A nice, easy plan. “So, what’s your name?”

“C.C Tinsley.” Shane’s fake name fell from his lips with ease, his nerves starting to settle as they drove. “Yours?”

“Goldsworth. Ricky Goldsworth.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan smiled. He'd never heard such a bullshit story in his life. "You wanna be careful, it's not good to be out and alone so late at night. Who knows what could happen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe the support this has gotten off one chapter! As a thanks, heres another! Hope you enjoy!

 Ryan really wished he’d turned on the radio when Tinsley had got in the car. They were forced to sit in a silence that neither of them could find the words to fill as it seemed that whatever words they could come up with would lead down a very dangerous path of conversation. It’s not like Ryan could turn the radio on now - he’d be acknowledging the fact that the situation was awkward, and that would just make it worse.

Tinsley patted his thighs with his hands a few times in a rhythmic like state before sighing and deciding to start a conversation. “So, Ricky. What’s got you driving so late at night?”

His tone suggested suspicion.

 _Really? I’m the suspicious one?_ “I was visiting a friend who lives quite far and I couldn’t be bothered to stop at a motel for the night, so I just kept driving.”

Tinsley nodded. A slow, calculating nod that showed he either didn’t believe him, or he really didn’t care. “What about you? What has a man running from the woods in the middle of the night?”

His guest shrugged, allowing his head to fall back onto the headrest. “Oh, y’know, I was just out for a walk and I heard a noise. It creeped me out so I ran.” He threw a guilty look towards Ryan. “I’m not proud of it.”

Ryan smiled. He’d never heard such a bullshit story in his life. “You wanna be careful, it’s not good to be out and alone so late at night. Who knows what could happen.”

He could feel Tinsley’s eyes on him but he didn’t change his position. He just kept his eyes on the road, his face blank as if what he had just said was completely normal. Tinsley swallowed and looked back out the window, his voice heavy. “Yeah. Who knows.”

 

-

 

They drove for what seemed like hours, hell, maybe it had been, before they finally arrived in a town. The car was low on gas so Ryan mumbled a quick sentence about finding a gas station.

They hadn’t spoke much after their little chat.

Tinsley had taken off his coat, folded it up and placed it between the window and his head to act as a pillow, meaning Ryan had to wake him up when they pulled into the station. It was still early, meaning there weren’t many cars around.

Tinsley stepped out of the car, letting his coat remain in his seat. He stretched, sighing in relief at the crack of his bones. “I’m gonna get some food. Want anything Ricky?”

Ryan shook his head as he started to pump gas into the car. “No but you can pay for gas as I’m the one carting you around.”

Tinsley yawned and nodded, already walking away. “Seems fair.”

Ryan sighed, clicking his neck as he waited for the meter to go up. He couldn’t wait to be rid of the contents of his trunk and the 6ft hitchhiker he’d now adopted. He was going to sleep for days. With the tank filled, Ryan put the pump back in its holder and climbed back into the drivers seat. He ran a hand over his face and shut his eyes, allowing himself a few minutes rest waiting for Tinsley.

His peace was short-lived as a phone rang.

Ryan opened his eyes and frowned. It wasn’t his - he never turned it off silent. Which meant it could only be one other persons. He glanced up towards the station, seeing Tinsley stuck in a long line of people, food in hands. Ryan knew that answering someone elses phone was a bad thing to do, but he wasn’t exactly a good person so he thought _fuck it_ and started rummaging through the pockets of the brown coat. He finally found the phone - the _flipphone_ \- and flicked it open, pressing it to his ear.

“Shane, my boy. Or is it C.C nowadays?” It was a mans voice. Deep and slightly on the husky side. There was no sign of a friendly tone in his words. Ryan stayed silent. “Don’t give me the silent treatment here you fuck. You really messed up. I hope you’re running nice and fast because if I catch you? I’ll make sure the last thing you see through your bloody, fading vision is me.”

Ryan clicked the phone shut, hanging up.

 _Don’t get involved._ He didn’t need this. It was Tinsle - _Shane’s_ problem and Ryan didn’t owe him anything. He would act oblivious and drop him off somewhere soon. He could see him approaching the car, so he quickly put the phone back in a pocket and looked out the window.

Shane opened the door, dropping a packet of crisps and a kit-kat onto his seat. “I bought beer, too. I’ll put it in the boot to keep it cold.”

“Oka-wait, _no!”_ Ryan barely had time to register what Shane had said before the taller man was moving towards the back of the car. Ryan scrambled to get out of his seat and out of the vehicle, hearing the click of the trunk. _Shitshitshi-_

There was the sound of glass smashing, the beer bottles slipping from Shane’s hands and then Ryan was there, slamming his hands on the top of the boot and forcing it to close. He risked a look at Shane, glad there wasn’t enough people around for the timing of the morning for anyone to take notice. Shane’s eyes were wide, his mouth open, attempting to form words with no sound escaping.

“Get in the car.” Ryan spoke through gritted teeth. This was not the way things were supposed to go.

“Ricky..I-“

“Get in the fucking car, Shane.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I won't tell anyone. I promise."
> 
> "I know you won't. You're going to help me bury the body."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck it have another chapter

Silence. There was just silence. That, and the sound of Shane shifting in his leather seat every now and then. Ryan had both hands clutched to the steering wheel. He was thinking.

He had driven Shane a bit further into the town and parked behind a rundown tattoo shop. He was partially hiding so that nobody would be able to witness if this went bad, though he also wasn’t too keen on being found with Shane by whatever asshole was looking for him. Ryan really didn’t like his tone.

The only thought running through Ryan’s head was to just kill Shane and throw him into the same grave as the guy in his trunk, but he really didn’t want to do that if he didn’t have to.

Unless.

If Shane became _apart_ of this little incident, he couldn’t exactly go to the police, though, something told him that with whatever shit Shane was messed up in, he wouldn’t go to the police for anything.

Ryan took his hands off the wheel, taking a deep breath. He turned his head slightly in the direction of the man to his right but didn’t actually look at him and opened his mouth to talk. Shane spoke before he could. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“I know you won’t. You’re going to help me bury the body.”

 

-

 

Picture the scene; midnight, a faraway secluded field, two men with shovels and a decomposing corpse. Just an average Tuesday night. The pair had spent the day together, Ryan not letting Shane out of his sight. It had been a pretty boring day, considering the way it had started and the way it was going to end.

“Okay. It needs to be about this long..” Ryan used his shovel to mark the ground. “And about this wide. It’s not that cold so the ground should be pretty soft. Won’t take us too long.” He looked back up at Shane. “Got it?”

Shane nodded. He wanted this whole day to be over and if that meant burying a body then so be it. Nothing could be worse than the way the day had started.

The men got to work, using their feet to drive the shovels into the earth. Surprisingly, with the soft ground, it was pretty easy. Almost therapeutic. Drive shovel. Lift dirt. Throw. Repeat. It made you understand the beauty and peace that came with gardening.

Shane did his best with his shaky hands, but his end still came out uneven and flaky in parts. He risked a break, standing up straight and rubbing the back of his hand over his forehead. He glanced towards Ricky.

The guy’s side of the grave was near perfect - a feature that had Shane somewhat nervous. His shirt was damp from a mix of sweat and condensation from the nights air and his arms were snug underneath the fabric, straining after each stab of the shovel. In any other situation, Shane would probably have found the man attractive, but Ricky had basically taken him hostage and forced him to get involved so he’d keep quite, so maybe not. Ricky glanced in his direction. “What?”

Shane shook his head, looking back at his own pile of dirt, somewhat embarrassed. He was glad it was dark so Ricky couldn’t see the light red his face had turned. “Nothing..I just..you’ve done this before.”

Ricky nodded, straightening up and allowing himself to breathe. “Yeah, a few times.”

 _Fuck, it’s like he’s discussing the weather._ His hand was on his hip, his other resting on the handle of the shovel. Ricky was the perfect picture of nonchalance. “Were they accidents?”

“This one was. Some of them weren’t.”

Shane nodded, directing his eyes back to the hole in the ground. It wasn’t quite 6 feet, but it could still probably fit two people easy. He swallowed, deciding to be careful with his words. “Thats..good.”

Ricky raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Well, no, but I don’t really know what else to say, Ricky.”

The shorter man sighed, dropping his gaze and shaking his head lightly. “Thats not my name.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Ryan.”

“Right. You never told me how you knew my name either.”

“You never asked.”

Shane laughed at that. “I was a bit preoccupied with the dead man in your car.”

Ryan smiled, looking down towards the body before back to Shane. “So? How did you know?”

“I answered your phone.”

Shane let the shovel drop from his hands, coming closer towards Ryan. He couldn’t stop the anger in his voice. “You _what?”_

In one fast motion Ryan had flipped the shovel in his hands and pressed the sharp point underneath Shane’s chin, lifting his head up and stopping him in his movements. “Let’s not forget who you’re talking to. Calm the fuck down unless you wanna share a nice, cold hole in the ground with our very dead friend here. Nod if you understand.”

Shane clenched his jaw, forcing his head to lower onto the unmoving object slightly in his nod. He could feel the trail of red liquid making its way down his neck.

“Good. Your phone rang and I answered it. Someone on the other end called you Shane and they were seriously unhappy with you. Maybe if you stop pissing me off I’ll tell you the rest of what they said sometime.” With that, Ryan lowered the shovel and dropped it on the ground at his feet. Just like that and he appeared indifferent, almost friendly once again. “Now, help me lift this guy.”

Shane used a thumb to swipe over his small wound, wiping away the blood. Seriously bad temper - noted. He moved round to the bottom of the body, bending down and lifting the legs as Ryan lifted the shoulders. They worked together, struggled grunts filling the silent air as they moved to position the body and lower it into the ground. “Careful, now.”

There was a noise in the distance - a snapping of a stick or something similar. Shane’s body shot up, arms dropping the dead man as his head whipped in the direction of the noise. He ignored Ryan’s cry of annoyance and shock. “What the fuck, Shane? I almost fell!”

He didn’t listen, his heart was pounding. They’d driven so far, he couldn’t have been found. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to die. _“Shane.”_

He hadn’t noticed Ryan coming to stand next to him, shovel in hand as his head flicked back from looking towards Shane and the direction he was facing. “Whats wrong with you? It was probably just some animal. Help me finish this and lets get out of here.”

Shane took the offered shovel, finding comfort in some form of heavy weapon in his hands. “Yeah. Right.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And then I met-"
> 
> "Me."

“Right, get out.”

After filling in the grave, which was a whole lot faster than digging it, Ryan and Shane climbed back in the car and took off driving once more. They drove back into town, the radio playing some weird early morning tune which saved the two men from talking, before Ryan had parked the car once more, leant over Shane and opened his door for him. Shane frowned, looking back and forth between the now open car door and the man who had opened it. “What?”

“You heard. Get out of my car.”

Shane felt a pang of anxiety about being left alone. Whether it was coming from the thought that he’d just buried a body - an image he would never get out of his head - or the idea of getting caught for what he’d done. If his actions did catch up to him, he wanted someone like Ryan around. 

In the short space of time that Shane had knew Ryan, he felt like he’d got a lot of his personality figured out. On one hand, Ryan was calm and resourceful. Intelligent. He knew just the right things to say and just the right things to do in a situation. Shane would never have thought of involving someone in a crime to keep them quiet, he would probably have just fucked with their head in any form of manipulation that worked, which would still leave a slight chance that that someone would go to the police. Not Ryan. He’d made it practically impossible. However, Ryan had a side to him that Shane was certain was a lot darker than Ryan was letting on. The dark bruise on his hand, the threats slipped so subtly into conversation, the short temper, the way he could dig a perfect grave, suggesting he’d done it one too many times to be coincidental. Despite all this, Shane still didn’t want to be left by himself. Hell, the man had threatened to decapitate Shane with a shovel and he found himself thinking he’d rather stick around. He just knew that whatever might be coming for him - whatever was coming for him - he’d feel a lot safer with Ryan by his side.

“But you..you still haven’t told me what the person on the phone said.”

“That’s your problem. Out.”

“I have a right to know.”

Ryan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Shane, don’t make me drag you out.”

Shane couldn’t believe this. It was really quite embarrassing considering his old line of work that he couldn’t find the right words to convince Ryan to let him stay. He could only think of one other thing to say, and that was something he really didn’t want to do, but if Ryan was going to get Shane involved im his crimes, then fuck it, Shane could play just as dirty. “I’ll tell you the real reason that I was running from the woods.”

Ryan considered it - he did. He’d been guessing in his mind ever since Shane had lied to him. Was it an affair? A murder? Had he escaped from a kidnapper? Ryan couldn’t lie, he was interested, but there was also a motel somewhere in this town that was calling his name. “Nope. Don’t care.”

Shane sighed, and with his final attempt down the drain, he stepped out of the car and slammed the door with a little more force than necessary. Ryan took off driving in an instant, not even bothering with one last look towards Shane. So Shane did the only thing he could think of, he watched the car drive away. He pictured himself in some romantic film where two people meet and fall in love and then theres the dramatic fight scene and the ‘will they or won’t they’ trope. He was currently at the part of his onscreen performance where one of the lovers is forced to watch the other drive away, pulled apart by disapproving parents, the car becoming nothing but a memory. Shane’s character would weep and run home in the rain, collapsing on his bed and crying into his diary about how life just isn’t fair. But that was movies. Shane’s story was a little more real, with less love and more murder.

Whilst this little movie had been happening in Shane’s head, the car had gone a total of about 6 meters before it stopped and Ryan climbed back out. He turned back towards Shane and sighed a reluctant ‘get in’.

Shane practically ran towards the car.

 

-

 

They were seated across from each other in some 24/7 diner they’d come across. Since the hours of the morning were still ones that had most people asleep, the place was practically empty, allowing the pair to talk in private.

Shane sat in silence, his hands around a warm coffee cup as he tried to decide where to start on this story. He could feel Ryan’s eyes on him. “You’re going to need a little backstory, first.”

“I’m all ears.”

Shane risked looking up, swapping from staring into the dark brown liquid of his drink to the lighter, more accepting hazel of Ryan’s eyes. It was funny to him that someone as dark as Ryan had such sweet eyes.

“I was in this team, of sorts. There was 3 of us. Me, Holly Horsely and Banjo McClintock.”

Ryan couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Fucking hell, _Banjo McClintock?”_

Shanes face held no humour. “You can laugh, but he’s probably the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever had the disfortune of meeting.”

Ryan thought back to the phone call, wondering if the voice fit to the name.

“Anyway. There was the three of us. McClintock was the brawn, Horsely was the brain and I was the conman. My role was to basically lie and cheat my way in or out of trouble depending on what scam we were pulling. And we pulled a lot. They started off small; distractions in a 7/11 while the others shoplifted whatever we needed, pick-pocketing on the streets. Then it turned to looting cash registers late at night, either breaking in or once again, just distracting the clerk. Do you know how much money you can build up from small corner shops? It’s a damn lot I’ll tell you that.”

He paused in his story, half for dramatic affect and half to read Ryan’s reactions. The shorter man was listening intently.

“One day, McClintock tells us that he wants to go bigger - museums, bigger businesses, banks, but I didn’t think it was worth the risk of ruining our lives when we were perfectly fine with what we had going for us, so I said no. There was a pretty heated argument about it. Little did I know that Horsely felt the same way as he did, so they made a plan. I woke up one night and found myself thirsty, so I made my way downstairs to get a drink. On the way to the kitchen I heard them talking and I heard my name come up. They were going to get rid of me - whether that meant kill me or just ditch me, I don’t know. I didn’t stick around to find out, but they were going to get rid of me, take my share of the money and move onto ‘bigger things’. So I decide to beat them to it. I went into the study one night when I knew McClintock would be gone and I opened the fake bottom of one of the draws in the desk - it’s where we kept the money - I started putting it all in this bag, but Horsely came in.”

_“Shane? What are you doing?”_

_Shane whipped his head up, seeing Horselys shadow illuminated by the few lamps in the room. She had a hand on either side of the door frame. A physical barrier. He suddenly found it very hard to make a lie believable. “Nothing, I’m just-“_

_“You’re stealing from us!” She took a step towards him._

“She was acting as if I was the bad person in all of this and I just got so angry.”

_“Yeah! I fucking am! Because I know what you and that bastard McClintock are planning and I’m not going to just sit around and let it happen.” Each word was a venomous spit, a forceful handful of money shoved into the bag._

_“I’m not letting you do this. I’m calling McClinto-“ Shane was next to her in a second, slapping the suddenly appeared phone out of her hand with such aggression that it shattered as soon as it hit the floor. “You’re not doing shit.”_

_He moved back round to the other side of the desk, picking up the now full bag and slinging it over his shoulder before coming face to face with Holly once more._

“Horsely was my friend. She was. I cared about her. But in that moment I was so upset that I didn’t care what happened, I just wanted to be out of that house.”

_“You’ll have to go through me, Shane.”_

_He tried to step around her but every move she followed. Blinded by his anger, he did the only thing he could think of._

“I pushed her.”

_Shane wasn’t the strongest of people, but he was big. All it took was one push backwards and Horsely stumbled, falling. She hit her head against the floor with a sickening crack._

“I pushed her so fucking hard.” Shane was staring blankly at this point of his story, his voice barely a whisper as a single image replayed in his head.

_Her eyes were wide open._

_“Ho-Holly? Fuck, are you okay?” He dropped the bag, money forgotten, falling to the floor beside his friend. His friend who wasn’t breathing. It was at that moment that he noticed the change in colour of the floorboards. What had once been a calming, sandy pine wood floor was turning a dangerous shade of crimson. The new paint was coming from - oozing from Holly Horsely’s cracked skull._

_Shane could hardly breathe. He pressed his hand to the wound, his mind telling him that pressure stops blood flow, but it was too late. “I’m so sorry.”_

_A sob escaped from him and he was almost certain that he would die there too. That some powerful being would strike him down then and there for his actions. Then the front door clicked open._

_“Madej? Horsely?” McClintocks deep, borderline husky voice travelled through the house and right into Shane’s heart. He had to get out. Now._

_Shane scrambled to his feet, wiped his bloody hand on his black jeans, the colour seeping in, and made for the window. He’d never been so glad to be on the first floor of a building. He threw it open, climbing through with as much grace as a baby giraffe before he took off running. He hit the forest not far from the house within minutes. It was then that he thought back to the bag of money on the floor - forgotten in his panic._

_His lungs were on fire and he was almost certain he would collapse if he ran any further. But he had to. He had to put as much distance between himself and that house as he could if he wanted to lead a normal life. Well, normal would be pushing it in his case. Shane used his hands to block branch after branch from hitting him in the face, hoping, praying to hit a town and be able to hot-wire a car and get the fuck out of Illinois soon. He could see the trees start to thin out as he came up to what looked like a road, not even slowing down as he sprinted into the middle of it._

“And then I met-“

“Me.”

Shane finally looked up at Ryan, searching his face for any sign of anything. To his surprise, Ryan looked almost sympathetic.

“The guy on the phone, I think it was McClintock. He said you better run fast for what he had in store for you.” Shane had the audacity to laugh at that. He found himself conflicted with earlier emotions, wanting Ryan to leave his side for his own sake.

“Well then, Ryan, I suggest you get as far from me as your car will take you. Theres no need for both of us to die.”

To his surprise, Ryan uttered 3 words. “Not a chance.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a strange nostalgia running through him as he lay on his back. The ceiling was one of the types with the random lines all over it, allowing your mind to make shapes and patterns if you were tired or high enough. It was just like the type Ryan had in his bedroom as a kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took awhile, I've been mildly distracted.
> 
> Trigger warning of a panic attack I guess?? idk how accurate it is cos I based it off my own experiences, so I dont know how triggering it'll be but thought i'd put it out there.

The small town of Illinois really didn’t have much to offer, but it did have a motel with clean sheets and hot water.

Ryan had gotten them a room, once again using the fake names they’d come up with to register it. He was currently laying on one of the beds, staring at the ceiling and wishing Shane would hurry up in the shower so he could have a turn before he fell asleep. There was a strange nostalgia running through him as he lay on his back. The ceiling was one of the types with the random lines all over it, allowing your mind to make shapes and patterns if you were tired or high enough. It was just like the type Ryan had in his bedroom as a kid. He often found himself wondering what his younger self would say if he could see him now. His thoughts were interrupted by Shane leaving the bathroom, hair wet and dressed back in his clothes.

“Seems to defeat the purpose of a shower if we get back into the same clothes.”

Ryan sat up, laughing slightly as he rubbed his tired eyes. “We’ll have to go out and get new clothes.”

Shane nodded, dropping his gaze. He wasn’t too keen on sticking around town now that he’d gotten McClintocks message. All he wanted to do was get in Ryan’s car and drive as far as they could. Ryan saw the sudden deflation in Shane’s character and he stood, walking towards him and placing a hand on the taller mans arm. “Look, it’ll be fine. Is McClintock the type of guy to do something in public?”

Shane shook his head.

“Then theres no reason to worry. You think you can stay in here and not freak out while I shower?”

Shane nodded. “Good.”

He let his hand drop and walked into the bathroom. The room was slightly misty from Shane’s use of the hot water and Ryan could feel it in his lungs. He cleared the steamed mirror with his hand, rubbing the condensation on his jeans before looking at his own face in the reflection. His eyes were on the verge of being bloodshot, and there were dark circles underneath to match. Being awake for 2 and a half days would do that to you. Ryan had never been one for pep-talks in a mirror, but he was mentally telling himself to keep it together, for Shane’s sake, the man had a death sentence over his head and was probably one threat away from losing it. Therefore Ryan had to be the one to have his shit together. He sighed, ran a hand over his face and turned to start the shower.

 

-

 

Shane sat on the bed that Ryan had previously occupied. He had many questions about the guy, mainly revolving around the man they’d buried and why Ryan was still around. He sighed, laying back and letting his thoughts run free as he stared up at the ceiling. It was just like the one in his childhood home.

At that moment, Ryan came out of the shower. He hadnt spent as long as Shane, wanting to go out and get new clothes. He saw Shane laying on the bed, long limbs spilling over the side of the single mattress. “What are you thinking?”

“The ceiling. It’s got the same design as my bedroom did.”

Ryan cast his eyes up to the pattern once more, slightly weirded out that him and Shane had both had the same train of thought. “Lets get clothes.”

 

-

 

Clothes had been pretty easy to get. They found some small thrift store, wanting to spend as little money as possible. They’d both gotten another pair of jeans and a top, Shane going for another flannel while Ryan went for something a little more sporty. Then they had walked back to the motel, making small conversation as they went. The words were unspoken, but it surprised both Ryan and Shane how easily they could talk to each other, considering the circumstances. Both guys had questions they wanted answered, but they kept quiet. Ryan didnt want to freak Shane out anymore than he already was, and Shane didn’t want to anger Ryan and get himself possibly murdered.

The pair were currently both tucked in their motel beds in the deepest sleeps of their lives. So deep, in fact, that they didn’t hear the lock of their room click open, or the soft footsteps that crept into the room. They didn’t hear the hushed whispers between two men as they confirmed their plan. They didn’t hear the approach to their beds and they didn’t see the final nod that initiated the attack.

Shane woke first.

A heavy hand slammed down over his mouth and he jolted awake, eyes flying open to see his attacker. The man was huge. Broad shoulders, a shaved head and a snarl that warned Shane not to try anything. He risked a glance over to Ryan’s bed. He too had an attacker standing over him, gun in hand. Another warning. If Shane went nice and quietly, Ryan wouldn’t be harmed. Shane nodded as best he could with the weight holding him down, signalling he understood. The hand removed itself and he sat up, moving slowly and quietly to show that he wasn’t trying to alert Ryan. The three men started moving towards the door and Shane felt the barrel of a gun pressed into his back. Which meant it was no longer aimed at Ryan.

Now, Shane wasn’t the toughest of guys, fistfights often led to him losing, but he sure made up with it in brains. He presumed that he was being taken to McClintock, meaning that they wanted him taken alive. So, as much as these men could hurt him, they couldn’t kill him.

There was a creak from Ryans bed and all three men turned, watching as the body under the covers twisted in his sleep. The movement sent Shane back in his thoughts to the walk back to the motel.

_“You better not snore.” Shane joked, bag of new clothes in hand as he walked. Ryan laughed in response._

_“When I’m asleep, I might as well be dead. I don’t snore, I don’t move, I’m a literal rock.”_

_Shane nodded, a small smile on his face. “Good. Noted.”_

Shane could feel the increase of his heart as a thought ran through his head. _There’s going to be a fight._ The two hitmen-type-guys turned around to keep walking after they were sure Ryan hadn’t stirred, but Shane stayed where he was, facing the man with the gun. A low voice broke the silence, a small shove accompanying it. “Move it.”

So Shane did. As fast as he could, he grabbed the wrist that held the gun, pushing it up to aim at the ceiling as he used his body force to slam the man into the wall. “Ryan! Now!”

Shane felt strong hands on his shoulder, ripping him off the first man and throwing him backwards into the opposite wall. The force sent him sliding down to the floor in-between a bed and a nightstand. From his new position in the room, Shane watched as Ryan leapt from his bed, _a fucking knife in his hand,_ and ran straight at the man that Shane had previously apprehended. There was a sudden block in his view of the entertainment as the second man came toward him, snarl still etched into his face. Shane was pretty sure his heart was going to explode from adrenaline, and he scrambled to his feet, hands reaching for the lamp beside him. The man had the audacity to laugh. Shane drew the lamp back, putting as much force into a swing as he could. The man simply caught the lamp and ripped it from Shane’s grip. There was no humour in the continuation of his laugh. The man reached forward, grabbing Shane by the collar and pulling him towards him before slamming him back into the wall. Shane cried out as his head smacked the wall and he was almost certain he would pass out if he took another blow. He was once again pulled forward.

And then a single gunshot rang out.

Shane squeezed his eyes shut at the noise, thoughts of a dead Ryan bleeding on the floor running through his mind. Then he felt the hands holding him slowly slip away and he risked opening his eyes.

The scene was a massacre. The man that had been previously attacking him sat back on his knees, the only thing keeping him up being the wall he was leaning on.His eyes were open and unseeing. Compared to the other guy, this man had gotten off easily. The other guy was across the room, body sprawled out on the floor. Blood oozed all around him and Shane could make out multiple stab wounds in his body.

And then there was Ryan. The man was stood in the middle of the room, gun in hand and chest rising quickly as he panted. His hair was tousled - whether that was from sleep or the fight, Shane didn’t know, and he was sporting a split lip. Blood caked the front of his new top and for some reason, that’s all Shane could get his mind to focus on. “You’ve got blood on you.”

His voice came out strained and a little panicked and he soon realised that he too was breathing heavily. His heart felt like it was beating a million times a minute and he found that his head spun if he didn’t focus on one spot on the floor. Shane let his body slide back down the wall once more, hand gripping the side of the bed to ground him. He squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing wouldn’t slow and he was almost certain that he was going to die and that only panicked him more. He could hear Ryan’s voice without really hearing it and then he felt the hand that covered his on the bed.

“Shane. Shane, you have to listen to me. You need to calm down and breathe.”

Forcing out words in between breath proved to be a lot harder than Shane would have guessed. “I-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

Shane shook his head, eyes still closed, and suddenly ripped his hand out from underneath Ryans, finding that being touched only made it worse. “I think I’m- I think I’m dying.”

Ryans voice was a loud anchor. “No. You’re perfectly fine. It’s just a panic attack, it’ll pass.”

Shane shook his head once more. Didn’t Ryan understand? He was _literally_ going to _die_ any second.

“Shane, open your eyes and copy my breathing.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to.” Ryan was trying so hard to stay calm and not shout. They needed to get the fuck out of this hotel now. But he knew what Shane was feeling right now so he had to bite his tongue. “Shane, please, we can’t be found here. You’re smart, you know that.”

We can’t be found here. Shane understood that. The gunshot was loud and had probably alerted someone. He forced himself to open his eyes, not being able to meet Ryans, so he focused on his mouth instead and watched the words that tumbled out.

“Yes, good. Okay, now copy my breathing, I promise you can.”

Ryan knew how slow you were meant to breathe to calm an anxiety attack, but his urge to get out of the motel was calling to him, so he sped up the process. He waited until Shane was able to do it without Ryan leading before once again grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan opened his mouth to respond, to argue that he can't be that bad, to prod fun at Shane's cliche statement. But a phone rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to goondisgang who found me on tumblr, started a convo and then sent me a part that made them laugh cos like wow ??? u guys actually think 'hey that made me laugh' ??? swear its made me happy for days
> 
> -
> 
> I kinda inspired myself with how much time i have Ryan and Shane in a car. If i started writing small one shots in a series of ‘conversations from a car’ would anyone read them? They’d probably just be some small random convos, kind of like a behind the scenes i guess. You guys could give me topics or ideas and i could do my best to make them good. Let me know if you’d be interested and fuck it, start leaving ideas now and i’ll add them so some deep part of my brain <3333

Shane and Ryan were once again, parked in Ryans car - the place they seemed to spend most of their time together.

Ryan had to admit, it was nice having someone occupy the space next to him. His drives were normally filled with music, silence if he was in a bad mood or sometimes, and just sometimes, he fills the long drive by talking to himself. Not the batshit crazy kind of talk to yourself, no, the type of conversation you have with yourself when you realise theres really nobody left to talk to.

It starts off small. A slight mutter of ‘good job ryan’ when he takes the wrong turning, or a mumble of ‘walk away’ when someone starts to push him, but then he responds, justifies himself with a ‘well i wasn’t paying attention’ (as if that makes his journey any better) or a ‘or i could just hit the guy’ before he turns around and completely decks the man. He starts being both his own voice of reason and his voice of anger, inaudibly weighing up his pros and cons in public and just straight up battling with himself out loud when he’s alone. So, yeah, it was nice to have another human being respond to his thoughts.

“We should leave town. Right now.” Shane had recovered from his panic, but there was still an anxious air to him concerning the situation. Ryan shook his head.

“No. We leave now and we’re running from this guy for the rest of our lives.”

For the rest of _our_ lives. Shane couldn’t help but notice the phrasing. He knew Ryan meant nothing by it, but he also couldn’t help but let his mind wander. What would they do if they left? Would they stick together? They probably know too much about each others activities to trust the other to not be around them. Either of them could easily call in an anonymous tip about the other in a week or so of being apart. And what would happen if they did stick together after leaving town? Run around committing more murders and scams and become a 2018 version of Bonnie and Clyde? Shane moved forward with the conversation, stopping his thoughts. “What do you suggest we do then?”

“Stick around. Take him out.”

Shane couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Take him out? You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

Ryan opened his mouth to respond, to argue that he can’t be that bad, to prod fun at Shane’s cliche statement. But a phone rang. He watched as Shane checked his phone, Ryan once again knowing his is on silent, but it wasn’t Shanes. They shared a look before simultaneously turning to look to the contents of their back seat - almost like the moment in a film when the driver realises something is in the back seat.

See, the thing about Ryan is that he was a terrible person. Absolutely _awful_ when it came to manners. So he’d looted the pockets of the dead men before leaving the hotel room, much to Shane’s horror and confusion. All they had was wallets, gum and two phones. One of which, was ringing. Shane twisted in his seat, reaching out to pick up the noisier of the phones. He accepted the call and pressed it to his ear.

“Is it done?” An almost gravel like voice erupted from the phone - loud enough that Ryan could also hear it. The voice was cold, impersonal and a voice that Shane knew far too well, but the thing that really struck Shane was that the voice sounded bored.

Now, despite the bad blood between them in the present day, Shane and McClintock had once been friends. Good friends. They had dropped out of college together - the place being too slow for Shane’s quick mind and too boring for McClintock’s liking. Before Horsely came around, it had always been the two of them. McClintock jumping in on anyone who even looked at Shane funny, Shane passing McClintock answers during tests, drunk nights, high nights, small scams, even a drunk makeout session once or twice. You name it, the pair had done it together. Then Horsely had come along and they had been _magnificent_. Closer than any three people could be. However, as time went on, Shane noticed the times that Horsely and McClintock spent together, the small glances and slight touches. Then he’d caught them in a room together, half naked and not a space in-between them and it had hurt, because Shane will admit he had liked the guy, but he could also see how good the pair were together, how powerful, so he got over himself and let them be. Little did he know that he was allowing the set up of his groups downfall.

So in that moment, hearing that bored tone, anger flared up inside Shane, destroying any ounce of anxiety and bringing with it a spur of courage.

“I’m very sorry to inform you, _boss_ , but the only deaths tonight were that of your henchmen. Quite a shame, really, they seemed like such nice guys.”

There was a moment of silence which Shane liked to believe was McClintock trying to overcome his shock, before his voice once again came through the speakers.

“Shane Madej. I’ve got quite the bone to pick with you.” A laugh - all joking, yet somehow there was no humour to it. “How could you do that to Holly? She was your friend.”

“Yeah, and you were mine.” Shane did all he could to focus on his anger and not let the hurt seep into his voice. “Betrayal’s a bitch.”

“Tell me, did it-“

“No, you tell me. Did it hurt to find your dead girlfriends skull in pieces on the floor? Have you tidied up the mess yet? I wouldn’t leave it too long if I were you, I hear that shade of red is really hard to get out. Not to mention, it doesn’t really go with the rest of the decorating.”

Ryan was watching Shane with a new found interest. He had to admit, the bounce back from the man he had seen in the hotel room to this was truly impressive.

There was silence on the other end before McClintock spat out a venomous, “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Sure. I’ll add it to my diary.” And then he hung up. He would later come to regret this confidence, but in that moment he felt amazing.

“Holy shit man. It doesn’t go with the decorating?” Ryan grinned, repeating his favourite part of the conversation. Shane could do all but grin back, anger slowly dissolving as he smiled at the man next to him.

“I heard it in a movie once.”

 

-

 

And so the pair didn’t leave town, making a mutual decision to stick together and take the fucker down. It was once again nighttime and Shane couldn’t help but notice that most of his days quickly turned to night. He decided that either the days were becoming shorter, or he was stuck in some story where the editor had no idea how time worked. He liked the latter better.

Shane was reclined as far back as he could in the passenger seat of Ryan’s car, his jacket over him. He found himself unable to sleep despite the lack that he had gotten, and very badly wished Ryan was awake too. He wanted to ask why Ryan was helping him when he didn’t owe him, if anything, Shane owed him for the times that he’s saved his life so far. Little did he know that underneath the coat that was pulled all the way up to his ear, Ryan was also awake and found himself wanting to know more about Shane and McClintock and just Shane in general. He heard a small sigh and a shift of material that signalled Shane was indeed, awake, so he turned over and dropped the coat from over his face. “Not as comfy as the motel beds.”

Shane turned, slightly surprised, and laughed. “Nothing beats a good mattress.”

“Can’t argue with that. God damn, my childhood bed? Swear I was laying on clouds, man.”

“Lucky you, mine was more like a rock than something you sleep on.”

Laughter came with the response. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. I remember this one time-“

So they talked. Traded stories. There wasn’t a moment of silence for hours, until they realised that they were witnessing the sun come up. The pair trailed off in their conversation to watch it, and Shane found himself thinking that if McClintock found them tomorrow, if this was Shane’s last night on Earth, well.

He’d have spent it in damn good company.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re thinking of something. What is it?” Shane could practically see the cogs turning in Ryan’s brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to formally apologise in advance for how shite this chapter is. 
> 
> Idk if anyone saw my note in the last chapter, but would people read small drabbles in a series of ‘conversations from a car’ if i wrote it? It would be like small convos that shane and ryan have had at some point on the timeline of this fic. You guys could suggest topics and I could write them. Lemme know.

“We’re gonna need more money soon.”

Shane looked up, fork midway to his mouth as he registered what Ryan had said. The two of them had found a small breakfast diner and were currently indulging themselves on crappy pancakes and bacon, but hey, food was food. Shane threw in his input before filling his mouth with more circular shaped dough. “Damn shame I didn’t pick up that bag.”

Ryan nodded, seeming deep in thought. “Mm.”

“What?”

“What?”

“You’re thinking of something. What is it?” Shane could practically see the cogs turning in Ryans brain.

He hesitated. Yes, Ryan was thinking of something. An incredibly stupid, dangerous something that would get the both of them killed if they handled it wrong. But at the same time the thought thrilled him. “What if we went back to that house and took the money?”

Ryan spoke as if it was no big deal, trying to play it down, causing Shane to take a second to register what he had said. Then it clicked. “Are you fucking insane?”

“Hear me out, we-“

“Do you have a death wish?”

“No, listen-“

“I honestly can’t believe you-“

“Shane!” Ryans fist came down on the table with enough force to jolt the cutlery. Shane stopped talking. Ryan took a quick glance around the room, hoping nobody had noticed his small loss of temper. “Would you shut the fuck up and listen to me? You know the man well, don’t you?”

Shane nodded.

“So, you probably know the places to look in the house for the money?”

Another nod.

“You call McClintock, tell him you want to meet him face to face and talk. Spout some bullshit about guilt and regret or whatever. We get him to come to some far location and then when he leaves the house, we go in and take the money.”

Shane was silent, thinking it over. On the one hand, they did need the money and there was an absolutely beautiful stash of it practically calling their names, not to mention the extra fuck you to McClintock when he realises the money is gone. But it was also very risky. What would they do if he didn’t want to meet? What if he lied and didn’t actually leave the house? What if he came back early? A thousand possibilities were running through Shane’s head and he found himself saying, “Okay. We do this, but we do it my way.”

“It’s all yours.” Ryan grinned, another strip of bacon going into his mouth.

 

-

 

It was once again night time and Shane found himself wondering what he had done with his day to have ended up crouched in a forest next to Ryan and spying on his previous living space.

They had driven back down the road they had originally met on before parking it and walking deep into the forest. They then stopped when the house was in their sights, waiting to see McClintock exit the building and drive away in his car, as he said he would on the phone.

_Shane could feel his heart beating in his chest as he listened to the phone ring and he found himself praying that his lies would live up to their usual believeable standards. Three more chimes, and then an answer. “Shane, why do I have the pleasure of you calling me?”_

_“I need to talk to you. Look, I can’t get what I did out of my head and I-“ a pause, a sigh. Shane had always loved the dramatics that came from putting on one of his performances. “I just have to do something about it.”_

_There was slight hesitation on the other end of the line. “So, talk then.”_

_Shane shook his head despite the fact that McClintock couldn’t see him. “I can’t do this over the phone. Will you meet me? You have to know the full story. We were friends, Ban, please just let me explain.”_

_Ryan was thoroughly impressed. He half believed that Shane did actually want to work things out._

_“Fine. Where?”_

_“Theres a town not far from the house and theres a diner called Bluebells. Meet me there tonight at 9.”_

_Another hesitation. “I’ll be there.”_

_And then the line went dead. Shane looked over at Ryan, who had an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face. He muttered a teasing, “Broadway here you come.”_

“He could still come back early.” Shane couldn’t help but voice his thoughts out loud, his tone small and anxious.

“Yeah, he could, but just think that he’s got to drive all the way into town, find the diner, sit and wait until he realises that you’re not coming and then drive back. That’s loads of time. Not to mention, he doesn’t know I’m with you.”

Shane nodded, feeling slightly better about the situation. It was strange how easily Ryan could calm him down or think of things Shane couldn’t. He guessed it made sense, in a way. Shane had always been the voice of logic and reason in any scam or heist, meaning that he never normally had an answer to his anxious doubts but now, he truly believed Ryan could answer any thought he had in his brain. He suddenly found himself awfully thankful that it had been Ryan driving down the street the night of the incident.

Shane was pulled from his thoughts by a figure walking out of the house, porch lights flicking on and illuminating his figure. Shane hadn’t even noticed that his hand was tightly gripping onto Ryan’s sleeve.

Now, the pair were well hidden in the foliage of the wood and the dark of the night, meaning they could very well see McClintock without him seeing them. And what a sight he was. Ryan believed the man looked like he should be a villain in a child’s cartoon.

Banjo McClintock was tall, broad-shouldered and had roughly the same hair colour as Shane’s. He was dressed in a light brown tweed suit that had Ryan thinking he looked even more like an asshole than he had proven himself to be, but the one thing that really stood out was his moustache. It was thick and dark and styled in a very stereotypical way that had the ends twisted up. He pulled it off surprisingly well.

The two men watched as he got into a car and drove away from the house. Then they waited. Waited until they couldn’t hear the engine speeding off down the road, waited until they were certain he wasn’t coming back before taking off running from their hiding place towards the empty house.

_“He won’t have anymore of those goons inside, will he?”_

_Shane shook his head. “No, he never lets anyone in the house. We’ll be completely alone.”_

Shane quickly found the key that they hide under a plant pot, thankful for McClintock’s stupidity, before unlocking the door and going inside. “Theres a slight possibility that its still in the study, but he’s probably moved it. We should check anyway.”

So off they went, down the corridor to the furthest room. Shane pushed the door open.

He’d always liked the study. It was warm and homely, and he’ll admit it made him feel posh and important simply because of the name of it. He was the only one who ever went in it too, so he’d somewhat claimed it as his own. But now, returning to the room where he had murdered a friend, Shane found the study to be cold and detached. Horsely’s body was gone and he half expected a white outline of her final position, like a scene out of Cluedo, but of course there wasn’t. That didn’t stop Shane from noticing the way the tiles darkened slightly in one area - stained with something thick and warm that didn’t come out very easily. He willed his mind to focus on the task at hand.

He moved forward, hoping Ryan couldn’t tell how off this room made him feel, and opened the all too familiar draw. He removed the fake bottom and revealed nothing. The money was elsewhere.

“That was expected. Where else do we look?” Ryan was already leaving the room and heading back towards the main entrance of the house.

It was a damn fine house, Ryan thought. Red walls and warm lighting with just a hint of elegance and royalty in the decorating. A stair case with marble steps (that Ryan was certain he’d be able to see his face in if it was cleaned well enough) led upstairs to bedrooms and fancy bathrooms that were just as nice as the downstairs. It was a damn fine house, Ryan thought, but it was not Shane in the slightest. And Ryan was glad. He pictured the type of person to live in this type of house to be stuck up, arrogant and everything else Ryan hated about humanity. He liked Shane, and was almost happy the guy had gotten out of this when he did.

“There’s only two other places, both upstairs. One is McClintock’s room, under the floorboards and the other is Horsely’s room - the wardrobes got a fake back.” Shane was already heading up the stairs, hand on the banister like he’d done this a hundred times. Ryan followed.

They started with McClintock’s room, Shane using his foot to test the floorboards before finding the one that came loose. He watched as Ryan dropped to his knees and pulled up the floorboard, once again, revealing nothing. Ryan couldn’t help but laugh slightly as he put the floor back in place. “It’s always the last place you look.”

Shane smiled back. “Life’s a bitch like that.”

They left the room, walking down the hall (past a certain bedroom that Shane was far too familiar with) before reaching Horsely’s room. They went inside and Shane’s eyes fell on the framed photograph of Horsely and McClintock on the nightstand before he made a mental note that the bedsheets were gone. He felt a small pang of sadness in his chest, but he forced it down by reminding himself what they were going to do to him.

The wardrobe was tall and as fancy as everything else in the house. Dark, mahogany wood with gold handles in a narnia-type-wardrobe design. Shane opened both doors, sliding the clothes along on the hangers so he had access to the back and inwardly cringing at the sound of the metal scraping across the bar. Then he got to work on sliding the back door open. The wood had always been stiff and Shane struggled to push it across, trying for a few moments longer before giving up. “Jesus. Ryan, help me with this. The damn things always stuck.”

So Ryan stepped forward, using his elbow to move clothes out of the way, and helped Shane with the wardrobes back. Together they had enough force to pry the wood open and they found themselves looking down at a bag.

The same bag that Shane had filled with money.

Shane knelt down and opened the zip, excitement coursing through his veins, and there it was. A shit ton of money. Ryan couldn’t help the laugh of happiness that fell out of his mouth. “Fuck me, have you ever seen something so beautiful?”

Soon the pair of them were laughing, simply staring down into the bag. Then they heard the closing of the front door and they fell silent. They listened intently to the sounds coming from below, a sound that was beginning to rise as there were footsteps on the staircase.

McClintock had come back early.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a strong possibility of death that made itself well known in the hearts of the two men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was reading the new comments on the new chapter and I was like wow I really want to write the start of the new chapter rn. then suddenly its 2:32am and ive written a new chapter. so here, have 2 updates in one day. treasure it i doubt it'll happen again. 
> 
> So, have this chapter with a similar pov to the first chapter. Also i may or may not have used McClintock to channel how much I swear in irl. if any of u ever have a conversation with me, then im apologising now.

**McClintock**

 

Fucking Shane Madej. Shane _fucking_ Madej and his lies and his fucking bullshit. He should have known that it was all some trick to..to what? Make him feel ever worse about Hollys death? Shane Madej was a goddamn piece of work. Well, yes, he did plan on killing him to take his share of money, but that was justified. Shane wasn’t cooperating and McClintock just couldn’t have that. He couldn’t stand it.

After realising that Shane wasn’t going to show, McClintock had gotten back in his car and driven home a little too quickly for someone who was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t angry. But who was he kidding? He was fucking fuming. He got out of the car, slamming the door and storming his way into the house and straight up the stairs. There was only one place that could somewhat calm him down.

He pushed open the door to Horsely’s room. It was just as he had left it. McClintock crossed the room to the nightstand, sitting down on the bed and picking up the photograph from the table beside him.

“I wish you were still here, my love. We could take down this fucker together.” His tone was way too sweet for the ominous threat that was accompanying it. He placed the photo down before making a mental note to replace the bedsheets on Holly’s bed. He’d used the previous ones to roll up her dead body.

McClintock made a move to start leaving the room, when there was a slight creak from the wardrobe. Just a small one that was probably just the house settling, or the wind from outside, but enough of a noise for something to feel wrong.

He came round to the front of the wardrobe, placing his hands on both handles before pulling it open. Everything appeared normal. The clothes were spread out evenly over the metal bar and the fake back was closed, just like he’d left it when he had hid the money that bastard Madej had tried to steal. Just to be safe, he slid the clothes along to the right so he had access to the fake panel and placed two hands on it, beginning to slide it open. He tried and he struggled but the damn fucking thing wouldn’t budge more than a few centimetres open before it got itself jammed. Of course, it was always a stiff back, but this time it was slightly more difficult than normal. He decided to blame that on his own anger making everything worse. McClintock knew he could get it open if he used enough force, but at that moment he would rather just burn the thing down, so he chose to give up. He stepped back, closed the doors and left the room, heading back downstairs for a nice bottle of whiskey that he knew he had somewhere.

 

-

 

**The Boys**

 

McClintock had come back early and he was headed this way. The pair had a silent, panicked conversation where they tried to figure out what the fuck they were going to do before Shane had grabbed Ryan’s arm, pushed him into the wardrobe and shut the doors after he too had climbed in. He slid the hangers back along the metal bar so that they were spread evenly before he got to work with closing the fake back of the wardrobe in front of him.

It was a tight fit, the two of them crammed together in a secret space in a wardrobe, and the bag taking up space on the floor was certainly not making things easier. With Ryans help, the back slid closed and they were plunged into darkness. They didn’t breathe. The only sign that the other man was there was the fact that they were forced to be shoulder to shoulder in the small space.

Shane believed that if this was a romance-comedy, this would be the moment where a hand brushes another before they slowly come together to kiss for the first time, stumbling blindly like idiots in the dark. But this was nothing like that. There was a strong possibility of death that made itself well known in the hearts of the two men.

They heard the door open, muffled but audible, and footsteps walking around the room, then the creak of a mattress before McClintock spoke. “I wish you were still here, my love. We could take down this fucker together.”

Ryan found himself amused that ‘this fucker’ was currently hiding 10 feet away in a wardrobe.

There was silence for a while longer, and Ryan noticed that Shane once again had a death grip on Ryan’s sleeve. It seemed to be a nervous thing. Footsteps started up and Ryan felt a burst of hope that the man was leaving the room. Then Shane shifted his stance and the wardrobe creaked under his 6 foot weight. McClintocks footsteps stilled, and then they grew closer.

The wardrobe shifted slightly with the force of McClintock opening the doors and both men cringed at the sound of the hangers scraping the metal bar that they hung from.

Shane’s heart was beating so hard in his chest he thought McClintock would hear it. He slowly brought his hands up, placing them lightly on the wooden panel in-front of him, prepared to push back when it started to open. Ryan copied.

Then the tug of war began. McClintock slipped into first place when the wood slid open ever so slightly, but Shane and Ryan were quick on his heels to push back, having twice the force. Their little game went on for a few seconds longer, and Ryan heard a small voice in the back of his mind say ‘this must be what Harry felt like when his spell collided with Voldemort’s in the goblet of fire.’ He quickly shut that voice up.

McClintock gave up first, allowing the boys to take the victory. They stopped pushing back, hands still ready to continue if the need arose. But then the wardrobe doors were dropped closed and the footsteps made their way back down the stairs and Shane could breathe easy for a few seconds more.

“We need to get out of here, fast.”

Their voices were barely a whisper as they moved, doing everything in slow motion to ensure they made absolutely no sound. They exited the wardrobe, duffel bag securely in hand, and made their way out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Then came the exciting part.

To leave the house, they had to walk down the hallway, down the stairs, through the main entrance lobby and out the front door. It seemed like a pretty simple journey if you ignored the part that McClintock could round a corner and spot them at any second, but they also weren’t going to get very far if they spent their whole lives in the back of that wardrobe. So off they went.

Shane led the way, knowing exactly which spots to avoid so the floor didn’t creak. They reached the top of the stairs in seconds, but they both swore they had been in that hallway for days. The stairs were simple, as it was marble there was no sound when they walked, allowing them to move past this obstacle pretty quickly. They would have been fucked if they were caught on the stairs.

They could see the front door at this point and Ryan was almost certain a holy white light surrounded it. Shane leant forward, looking down the corridor that led into the kitchen. He could see McClintock’s shadow as he moved around. He stepped onto the main entrance floor, gesturing with his hand for Ryan to follow before using his long legs to cross to their escape, his shorter friend tiptoeing behind him. Shane lightly placed his hand on the door handle, turning it so slowly it hardly seemed to move before the door opened with a light click. He pulled it open as little as possible before squeezing through the small gap. His heart was yet to beat at a normal pace and he could feel his legs preparing for a sprint as Ryan came through the door and closed it quietly behind him.

So they ran.

Now, Ryan may be short but the man was _fast_ and Shane was almost certain that the only thing slowing him down was the bag of money he was holding. Both of their chests burned as the harsh air forced its way deep into their lungs, but they didn’t stop. Not until they reached the road. Not until they were safely tucked inside their car. Ryan’s car. _Their_ car.

The bag was thrown into the backseat and Ryan was flooring it before his door had even closed. For a while, the only sound was of panting as they tried to catch their breaths, a laugh slipping through every now and then. Ryan was the first to speak. “I’m not going to lie, I think that was the most fun I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

Shane nodded, his cheeks red from the cold but his nerves were on fire. “I was shitting myself the whole time but holy fuck, dude! That was some spy shit!”

“Back of the wardrobe? Fucking genius.”

“Thank god you were there, I wouldn’t have been able to hold the door by myself.”

“Thank god _you_ were there. You’re the one who got us out.”

Ryan had slowed the car down slightly now that they were approaching the town and both men were beginning to breathe better. “How much have we got?”

Shane shook his head. “I don’t know. I haven’t counted it in months.”

Ryan’s hands were tensing and untensing as he gripped the steering wheel, a grin on his face and a glint in his eye. “Let’s fucking count it then.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan was almost certain his skull was going to cave in on itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe one day i’ll write a chapter that isn’t set at night. 
> 
> holy shit guys. almost 200 kudos and almost 100 comments on some shitty piece of writing that i made? i cant believe it and im so grateful to everyone whose read this and left kudos and to everyone whose commented - whether ur a regular commenter whose name i remember or ur new to this story. thank u all so much. 
> 
> fun fact! i wrote pounds before dollars nd then i remembered the boys arent british like i am so i had to change it.

“50,000 dollars. This is 50,000 fucking dollars!”

Ryan had bundles of cash in each hand, both neatly tied up with an elastic band. He was currently suspending them midair, waving them in Shane’s face as if the man who had obtained the money had never seen it before. “I mean, you said you got all this from scams, right? Scams and small heists in shitty corner shops?”

Shane nodded in response.

“How in the ever-loving-fuck do you get this much money from that?”

Ryan was almost certain his skull was going to cave in on itself. He’d never been around that much money in his life, let alone the two small bundles he held in his hands. All he could seem to do was stare at Shane, who had the bag of money on his lap in the car, and a very smug smile on his face.

You see, up until that moment Shane assumed that Ryan had the upper hand in pretty much everything. He was used to being second best from all of his time around McClintock. Ryan had more initiative, he was more good looking, tougher, calmer, he could kill someone without needing a few minutes to calm down from a panic attack after seeing the dead bodies. In Shane’s mind, Ryan was significantly better. Just the idea that Ryan was thrown off by something Shane had achieved had Shane wanting to take a photo of this moment and frame it. He gave a small shrug, crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to appear nonchalant. “I did tell you, you’d be amazed how much money you can get out of small corner shops, especially if you’ve been doing this as long as I have.”

He even made a move and took the money out of Ryan’s stunned hands, dropping it into the bag and zipping it up like the asshole that he is.

“Goddamn. I should have snatched you upas my partner years before McClintock could.”

Shane felt his face heat up at the compliment and he turned to look out the window as all arrogance left him. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I’ll be doing anymore heists anyway, so..”

He trailed off in his sentence, not entirely sure where he had intended it to go. Then Ryan made a suggestion. “I mean, you could.”

“Could what?”

“Do more heists.”

Shane scoffed. “Yeah, right. Because I’ll be able to pull them off on my own.”

“You won’t be. You’ve got me.”

Shane turned back to look at Ryan, comeback on his tongue and eyes sharp, ready to see the teasing look on Ryan’s face. Only, there wasn’t one. Ryan was looking at Shane so seriously and with just enough belief that the words died in his throat and he found himself genuinely considering it.

He was starting to believe Ryan was a bad influence.

“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting and we go through with it, then we have to do it my way, just like at McClintocks.”

Ryan knew he had him. He let a grin slip onto his face. “You’re the boss.”

 

-

 

It was near midnight, because of course it was, and the pair were round the corner of a 7/11, both anxious and excited. They were both repeating the plan over and over in their minds. Ryan was the distraction, Shane was the thief, run like all hell if things went wrong. Ryan stepped forward, making his move for their night to begin, but a hand stopped him.

“Hey, hang on.” Shane reached out a hand to grab Ryan’s shoulder, pulling him back.

“What is it?”

Shane knew that if he didn’t ask now, he never would. “Dude, I have to know. Why are you doing this? Why are you sticking around and offering to help take down a guy who means nothing to you? Is it the money? Because if it is, just tell me and I’ll let you take some and you can be on your way. There’s no point in you getting hurt just because you wanted some cash.”

Ryan couldn’t help but notice the slight tone of disappointment in Shane’s voice. And he couldn’t lie, at first, it had been about the money. He remembered first hearing Shane tell the story of what happened the night they met and then Shane had mentioned money and that had sent his mind racing in a million possibilities that would lead him to said money. He remembered thinking that he could just kill Shane and hope that McClintock offered up some cash in reward, or he could play the long game and the latter had seemed like the better option. But then they’d been attacked and Shane had just looked so helpless and broken that it reminded him of a time when he himself hadn’t been so tough, and how much he had wished for someone with good intentions to just help him. Not to mention, he liked the guy. He really did. Standing here, round the corner from a shitty 7/11 in the dead of night and looking into Shane’s worried eyes, he liked him. He liked the way he had to have his head turned to the right when he slept, he liked that he only drank his coffee black, he liked the stupid puns he made and the fact he was so stubborn about his views on ghosts. Ryan liked the man and he wasn’t going to let his friend be hurt.

They were friends, at this point. They had to be. There were very few things that two human beings could go through together without being forced into a friendship. Burying a body, surviving a murder attempt and robbing a man in his own house were some of them.

“Shane, if I had ulterior motives, trust me, you’d know. Yes, some part of me was in it for the money at first, but, I don’t know. You’ve grown on me.” He shrugged as he felt Shane’s hand slip off his shoulder. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

A warm feeling spread across Shane’s chest and he found himself very grateful for Ryan’s presence. All he could find it in himself to say was, “Okay then. Let’s ruin some underpaid guys night.”

Ryan rounded the corner and entered the shop, smiling politely at the guy working the till when he saw him enter. He started wandering, pretending to look for something. Well, technically he was looking for something - whatever would take the longest for a shop clerk to clean up or deal with. He had around 40 more seconds before Shane entered, so he had to choose fast. The neatly stacked tins? No, it would be too fast to clear up when Ryan offered to help. The magazine stand? No, magazines were easy to push all into one pile and deal with later. Then a neat row of bottles caught his eye. They were clear, allowing Ryan to see the liquid contents inside. This was it. He heard the chime of the bell as the door opened, heard Shane mutter a hello to the clerk before he too started looking at something in a row near the till. So Ryan made his move.

He practically rammed his body into the stand of bottles, hearing the smashes of glass hitting the floor before he steadied himself and covered his mouth with his hands, feigning horror. “Oh my! Oh gosh!”

The shop clerk caught his eye as he approached the situation. He was a weedy looking guy, clearly not getting paid enough, and whatever little light remained in his eyes seemed to fizzle out as he saw the mess Ryan had made. Ryan almost felt bad. Almost.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so clumsy.” He knelt down in the broken liquid and glass, attempting to pick up a few of the shards and causing the clerk to hurry towards him, spilling out ‘sir, let me’ and ‘careful with that.’

“It’s okay.” The clerk drawled out, couldn’t be any older than 19. “I’ve got it.”

“You must let me help you. Let’s move the big pieces first.”

So they did, making a small pile of the larger shards of glass, Ryan telling stories of how clumsy he is at home and how much his wife and kids pick on him for it.

Meanwhile, Shane had set to work on the cashier. Lock picking was a skill of his, so it didn’t take long before the till slid open with a light ping and he could get to work on quietly putting all the money in his bag.

The clerk made a move to stand up, suggesting that he get a dustpan and brush from the office, but Ryan hadn’t heard Shane leave the store, meaning he was still working on the money. In an act of quick thinking, he slid the palm of his hand along the top of a sharp edged piece, dramatically crying out in pain as his other hand shot out to grab the front of the clerks shit. “Oh! Oh gosh! The pain! It hurts so bad, please don’t leave!”

The clearly frazzled shop clerk looked horrified at the blood oozing from Ryan’s flesh wound and he made an attempt to free himself to fetch some bandages, but Ryan’s grip only tightened.

Within the chaos, Ryan heard a light chime of the door as Shane exited the shop.

He suddenly freed the clerk, watching the boy fall backwards from the force, and got to his feet. “Actually, I don’t live too far. I’ll be fine. Sorry for the mess.”

Ryan shot the clerk a final apologetic smile before he got to his feet and quickly exited the 7/11. He couldn’t imagine the bolicking that kid was in for when his boss finds out. He made his way round the corner and down the street to where his beloved car was parked, and climbed into the drivers seat where Shane was waiting for him. They both spoke at once.

“How much did we get?”

“The fuck did you do to your hand?”

Ryan shrugged, reaching into the back seat for an old cloth and wrapping it round his injury. “I had to improvise.”

“We got around 500 bucks, give or take, which is pretty good for a shitty town like this. It takes a while to really get a lot of cash collected.”

Ryan couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face.

“McClintock, eat your heart out.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane nodded, a look on his face like he understood perfectly. "That's rough, I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its currently 2am nd i have to get up in 5 hours :)
> 
> and holy shit we hit 200 kudos?? goddamn thank u all so much i love u all

“I told you my murder story, it’s only fair.”

Ryan sighed and took a quick glance around, making sure none of the public had heard Shane’s words. They were currently wandering around and looking for somewhere expensive to have lunch and blow all their new cash. Ryan had steak on his mind. “Jesus christ dude, if I tell you will you shut up?”

Ryan’s words were rough but there was no menace behind the tone. Shane nodded.

“I was in a bar before we met and things sorta got out of hand.”

_He sat with one hand wrapped around his glass. He hadn’t meant to end up in a bar, but he’d gotten awfully lonely and that had made him mad, so he found himself craving some background noise. It was nice to listen to the small chatter of people mix with the calming pour of a drink and the clink of a glass against another. He’d been sitting on a barstool for around an hour when he decided to neck the rest of his whiskey and leave. His car was parked near the back entrance._

“Yes, I was going to drink and drive. Sue me, I’m a criminal.” The boys had found a nice looking restaurant at this point - it seemed to be a fancy grill. “I got interrupted.”

_As he stood up from the bar, the whiskey hit his bladder and he found himself looking for the bathroom. He located a shitty neon sign that was flashing just enough to give him a headache and made his way through the small crowd of people._

_The bathroom was small and the tiles on the walls were cracked but Ryan didn’t care much. He made his way into a stall and took care of business. Now, up until this moment the bathroom had been entirely empty, but then Ryan heard the door swing open violently and the noise from outside was loud before the door swung closed and it muffled once more. He left the stall to see some guy standing at the urinal. He was swaying slightly and had one hand above his head on the wall to steady himself. Ryan paid no attention to the man, just simply headed to the sinks opposite the urinals and washed his hands._

“The guy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Ryan’s hands were fidgeting with the cutlery on the table they were sat at.

_Ryan was suddenly shoved forward, hip bones slamming into the sink and he hissed in pain. The pressure was then gone, and he whipped round to see that the man had removed his hand from the wall to zip up his fly, staggered backwards and crashed into Ryan. A drunken mistake. Easily forgiven. Or not._

_“Watch it, asshole.” Ryan muttered under his breath, wiping his wet hands on his shirt before taking hold of the bathroom door handle and pulling it open._

_“What the fuck did you just call me, you little fuck?” The words came out slurred and in spits, but Ryan could still make out what the guy was saying.This was where the night changed. Ryan could have easily left the room without retaliating and slipped through the people to the safety of his car, but he didn’t. He could have apologised and offered to buy the man a drink, but he didn’t. What he chose to do, was shut the door and turn to face the guy._

“Oh, Ryan.” Shane sighed, knowing of his friends short temper.

“I know, I know, but I was pissed off and I wasn’t thinking.”

_“You understand basic english, right? I called you an asshole, asshole.” Ryan crossed his arms, a perfect steady demeanour compared to the man across from him. The man who was taller than Ryan and much more in shape, sporting a heavy leather jacket and a red bandana tied around one bicep. Thinking back now, he was probably some biker. Nevertheless, the guy was bigger but he was smashed. Absolutely gone._

_All his intoxicated brain could instruct him to do was gape at Ryan’s smooth response before yelling ‘I’m gonna fucking kick your ass!’ and charging forward. Ryan didn’t expect such a straight forward attack and he was slammed back into the wall behi-_

“Hi! My name’s Lucy and I’ll be your server this afternoon! What can I get you?” Ryan’s story trailed off as a smiling, blonde waitress appeared like a pop up ad to take their order. The two men realised they’d been so engrossed in the story that they hadn’t even opened their menus. A quick scan of their options and a few apologetic smiles later and they had successfully ordered, wasting no time in getting back to the tale.

_Ryan didn’t expect such a straight forward attack and he was slammed back into the wall behind him, feeling a few old tiles slip away from the wall due to the force. He recovered quickly, using his height to slip out from under the mans grip and come up behind him. He grabbed the back of the mans jacket, using his strength and his opponents unsteady nature to swing him around, head first into a mirror above one of the sinks. The mirror smashed into small shards that fell into the ceramic sink and all over the floor - much like the drunk man._

“Did you know there’s a certain spot on a persons head where if you apply enough pressure, they’ll die?” Shane felt slightly unnerved by the straight eye contact that Ryan was making. Then the man was leaning across the table and lightly placing a fingertip to Shane’s temple. “Because I do. It’s right here.”

_Ryan was poised and ready, prepared for the man to get back on his feet and continue their fight. But he didn’t. He simply lay face down on the dirty floor unmoving. So Ryan crouched down and turned him over. He was unconscious. With his eyes wide open and staring unseeing to the ceiling above. Ryan’s heart was hammering in his chest. The guy couldn’t be dead, he was just knocked out. People could get knocked out with their eyes open, he knew that - he’d seen it in a video game. But then he noticed the small waterfall of crimson red that was running from the mans temple and his heart beat a little harder. He applied two shaky fingers to the mans neck, checking for a pulse. Nothing._

“Just like you with Horsely - I hadn’t set out to kill the guy. I just wanted to blow off some steam.”

_What the fuck was he going to do? He couldn’t just leave him here, someone would find the body and then they’d check the cameras and he’d be the last one seen leaving the bathroom. He frantically looked around the room for a way out. There were two glossy windows, but they were too small to get through and mostly just for show. Then he spotted a pair of sunglasses discarded and balanced nicely on top of the rooms only radiator and an idea sprung to mind. He’d suddenly never been so grateful for drunk people and all the personal belongings they lose. Ryan stood up from his place on the floor, getting some tissue from a stall and wiping the blood off the mans face as much as he could. Then he picked up the sunglasses and placed them on the dead guys face before placing one of the mans arms over his shoulder and hauling the body to his feet. The guy was fucking heavy._

_Ryan used his foot to awkwardly open the bathroom door before leaving the room and setting his plan in motion. It was easy enough to weave his way through the drunk people of the bar who were too far gone to notice anything other than a nice friend supporting another very drunk friend. It was the bartender that nearly fucked it all royally._

_“Hey, is he okay?”_

_Ryan turned as best he could, hoisting the man up a little bit more and let out a friendly laugh. “Yeah! He’s okay, I’m taking him home.”_

_The bartender nodded, but still kept an eye on them as they left the bar. After that, it was just a quick struggle to Ryan’s car and he was free._

“The rest you know about, the whole putting the guy in my trunk and driving and meeting you thing.” Ryan smiled slightly, not really sure how to move on from that confession.

Shane nodded, a look on his face like he understood perfectly. “That’s rough. I’m sorry.”

It was at that perfect moment in time that Lucy came back with their food and they were able to change topics. Ryan practically inhaled his meal, his body craving decent food.

“I can practically taste the expensiveness.”

Shane laughed. “Is that even a-“

All words died in his throat as a very familiar figure slid into the booth’s empty seat next to Ryan. He hardly even registered the fact that some huge goon was now occupying the seat next to him. An almost husky like voice spoke.

“Hello boys. Enjoying the meal?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McClintock turned to look at Shane and smiled. "He's awfully pretty - all dark skinned and muscular. You did always have a thing for the brawn of an operation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided that writing this is more important than the coursework that im running out of time to finish. shoutout to the lot of u that i've met and spoke to on tumblr! ur an awesome lot. enjoy. and im sorry.

“Hello boys. Enjoying the meal?”

There was a stunned silence as Ryan and Shane both registered who was sitting at their table. Shane’s brain immediately started to work on a way out, on a way to survive whatever was coming next. He risked a look at Ryan as guilt started to flood his body. Ryan was going to die and it was all his fault, because he had been too pathetic to be on his own. A small chant of ‘i’m so sorry’ replayed in his headand all he could do was hope that Ryan heard it. McClintock spoke again.

“That good, huh?” An amused tone to his words at his own joke. He looked between Shane and Ryan, making note of the fact neither of them found it funny. “You get the joke, right? See it’s funny because you’re silent over the fact that I’m here, and not over the quality of food.”

 _So, he was one of those guys._ Ryan’s vision of a cartoon villain only grew as McClintock explained his humoured nature. His hand was tightly wrapped around his steak knife, wondering if he had time to drive it through McClintock’s neck, take down his guy and then get the fuck out of the restaurant with Shane by his side. The sudden cock of a gun had him deciding that he didn’t. He looked down, feeling the heavy metal pressed into his thigh underneath the table and assumed that Shane was receiving the same treatment on the other side. Still, neither Shane or Ryan spoke, both of them working too hard on trying to form a plan that lead to them staying alive.

“Now, all four of us are going to leave this place, nice and calmly, and get into the car waiting outside. Everyone understand?”

For the first time, Shane tried to speak. “McClintock, I-“

“Do you understand, Shane?”

Shane nodded.

They all stood up, Ryan throwing a couple hundred dollars on the table to cover whatever their food had cost, and left the building. Outside there was a black range rover parked on the curb. As much as Shane hated him, he couldn’t deny that McClintock had style. As he approached the car, he paused and turned around to face one of McClintock’s guys. “Where are you taking us?”

All he got in return was a blow to the head with the barrel of a gun. He passed out pretty quickly after that.

 

-

 

Shane’s senses came back to him before he could open his eyes. He knew he was sitting down, he could feel the hard surface of the wooden chair against his back. His arms had been pulled roughly behind the chair and zip tied, the tight plastic cutting deep into his skin and connecting him to the wood. What he felt more than anything, was the soft pounding in his head from the blow that he took earlier. The pain seemed to increase as he came further into consciousness and he groaned softly, lifting his head up and opening his eyes.

He had half expected to look around and see that he was being held in some abandoned warehouse with chains hanging from the ceiling and cold concrete underneath his feet. Instead, he recognised the room instantly. They had brought him to the study in McClintock’s house. The desk had been pushed to the side of the room and the contents on top of it replaced with a range of instruments and tools that Shane had no interest in finding out the purpose of. The curtains were pulled close despite the fact the house was placed in the middle of nowhere, so Shane had no idea of knowing how long he’d been out for. Was it still daytime? He almost scoffed. Of course it wasn’t. It never seemed to be daytime in this damn town. The thing that caught his attention the most, though, was the plastic blue tarp that was underneath his feet. It almost covered the whole of the study floor, as if someone was prepared for if things got a little messy. Shane felt his heart drop at that. He twisted his head to look around a little more, feeling more awake, and found that he was completely alone in the study. So, where the fuck was Ryan? Had Ryan told McClintock that he didn’t even know Shane? That he had nothing to do with any of this, and they’d let him go? Were they holding him somewhere and interrogating him? Was he already dead? Shane felt a pang of sadness and guilt in his chest at the last thought. He immediately started twisting his hands, ignoring the harsh bite of the ties as he tried to loosen the plastic. Almost on cue, the door to the study was pushed open.

McClintock strolled in, tweed suit ironed and his moustache immaculate. Shane almost wanted to laugh. He also held a cigar in one hand, the smoke twirling from one end and dispersing into the air. McClintock locked eyes with Shane and took a drag for dramatic effect. He let the smoke leave his mouth as he spoke. “Welcome back to the land of the living. So nice of you to join us.”

Before Shane could fire back a retort, or ask of the whereabouts of his friend, McClintock had stepped forward and landed a solid punch to Shane’s nose. Shane felt more than heard the crack of his bones and a pain that was almost numb spread through his face. He felt a small trail of liquid slither down his skin and start to pool in his cupids bow.

“That’s for robbing me.”

“What have you done with Ryan?” Shane’s voice came out stronger than he expected. He watched McClintock closely for any sign that Ryan was dead. The man simply smirked and took another drag of his cigar. “So, that’s his name? Ryan. Tough name for a tough guy. Well, he _was_ a tough guy - all curses and struggle. Then I let my men have a little fun, so who know’s how he’s doing now.”

Shane was certain that if his stomach dropped again it would be at his feet. He was praying that Ryan was still alive. He had to be.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll go get him and then he can enjoy the show.” Without waiting for a response, McClintock left the study and shut the door behind him. Shane got to struggling again, sure that his wrists were going to be raw and bloody by the time he got himself free. Or by the time he dies. The door opened once more, meaning Ryan hadn’t been too far away, and McClintock stepped through again, two of his men in pursuit and with them, Ryan.

He looked awful. His arms were pulled behind his back and Shane could only guess he was zip tied too. His shirt was ripped at the shoulder and darkened in places, either from sweat or blood, Shane wasn’t sure. Ryan’s hair was messy and standing up in places, like someone had been pulling on it, and his face was beaten and bloody. Shane could already see it starting to bruise. They forced him on his knees towards the corner of the room with ease, one of the men standing by him, and the other moving round Shane to stand at the desk. Ryan looked up at Shane, his eyes holding an emotion that Shane couldn’t quite make out before he lowered his head, his breaths harsh.

Shane wanted to cry. He wanted to crawl down on the floor next to Ryan and apologise for dragging him into this, for asking for a ride when they first met, for everything. He wanted Ryan to roll his eyes and lightly rap him on the shoulder as he tells him to shut the fuck up and stop worrying. He wanted to leave this god forsaken house and sit in the cramped space of Ryan’s car, discussing their childhoods and ghosts and the universe. But he couldn’t have any of that. Not right now. Shane felt more dread build up inside of him as he realised that he may never have any of that again.

McClintock crossed the room towards Ryan and crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet as he wrapped his fingers tightly in Ryan’s black hair, forcing him to look up. The smoke from his cigar made its way into Ryan’s lungs. He looked over his face, a contemplating look in his eyes as Ryan shot daggers back at him. McClintock turned to look at Shane and smiled. “He’s awfully pretty - all dark skinned and muscular. You did always have a thing for the brawn of an operation.”

Shane grit his teeth at the mention of his and McClintock’s past. He opened his mouth to respond, but it was at that moment that Ryan decided he wasn’t going to just sit their and be talked about. Ryan drew back his head a little, causing McClintock to turn and look at him, before spitting the blood that had been pooling in his mouth directly into McClintock’s face.

McClintock yelled, letting go of Ryan and using his free hand to wipe the blood from his eyes. He looked furious. He got to his feet, grabbed the top of Ryan’s head once more and forced his head back, exposing his neck. Then he pressed the burning end of his cigar harshly into Ryan’s skin.

For a second, there was silence, and then the whole room erupted into sound. Ryan let out a hoarse cry, struggling to get away from McClintock, who was laughing, a strange glint in his eye, but to no avail. Shane only then realised that he too was adding to the noise. He was leaning as far forward in his chair as he could, pleas and begs falling from his lips. One of McClintock’s men struck him across the jaw to shut him up.

After what seemed like eternity, McClintock finally let up. He released Ryan and stepped away, clearing his throat before reaching into his pocket for a lighter. He relit the cigar he had stubbed out on Ryan’s flesh. And Ryan, Ryan had his head hanging forward, some of his hair dangling over his eyes. His breaths were coming out heavy and thick but Shane suspected that he didn’t regret his actions at all.

“God, Ryan, I’m so sorry.” Shane realised his voice had changed from the strong, confident tone that it held earlier. Now, he sounded small, child-like and pathetic. At the sound of his voice, Ryan had looked up. His face was unreadable.

McClintock laughed at that. “Well! Isn’t that sweet?”

Then his eyes lit up, like he’d had an idea. He approached one of his men and leaned in close, whispering something that Shane couldn’t make out. Then the man nodded and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a gun and handed it to McClintock. A wave of dread washed over Shane.

“Now, my dearest Shane, I’m going to give you two options. All of us can stay here for who knows how long, and you and your friend can experience just exactly what happens to people who take things from me until your inevitable deaths, or, you can take this gun and end Ryan’s life painlessly before you skip on out the front door. It’s your choice.”

The nausea hit Shane like a truck and he was almost certain he was going to throw up. He didn’t want to die. He really didn’t want to die. He had plans - he had a whole life ahead of him and he _did not_ plan on dying here. He thought about the two options. Ryan was going to die with whatever he chose. Wouldn’t it be easier, wouldn’t it be nicer for Ryan to go out quick? Rather than suffer through excruciating pain and still end up dead? Shane knew what McClintock was trying to do. He wanted Shane to feel the pain of losing someone he cared for, just like McClintock had.

Shane looked at Ryan. Ryan, who slept with his coat pulled all the way up to his ear. Ryan, who would defend his crappy car until the ends of the Earth. Ryan, who believed in ghosts with a burning passion, and Ryan, whose second name he had learnt in a debate about said ghosts.

_“No. No way.”_

_“Dude, come on, you can’t say there isn’t evidence.”_

_“If you could show me some solid evidence that I can’t explain with science, then sure.”_

_“You’re wrong. Ghosts exist.”_

_Shane shook his head, arms folded and the physical embodiment of stubborn. He’d be tapping his foot if he could actually move in Ryan’s tiny car. Ryan had been trying to convince Shane for a solid hour that ghosts exist, because ‘really dude? You believe in bigfoot but not life after death?’_

_“I’ll tell you what then, when all of this is over, we’ll go ghost hunting.”_

_Ryan rolled his eyes, scrunching up the now empty burger wrapper and throwing it into the back of his car. “Whatever dude, you wouldn’t take it seriously.”_

_“Yes I would! We could get a bunch of tech shit. Start a company.”_

_“We could have business cards. ‘Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara - ghost hunters.’”_

_Shane laughed before he truly clocked what Ryan had said. He cast him a look that had Ryan thinking he was trying to figure something out. “What?”_

_“I haven’t heard your last name before. Bergara. I like it.”_

_There was something suddenly so personal and intimate in that moment. The close proximity due to the small vehicle, the hidden road they were parked on, the small bit of information that really wasn’t that big of a deal but just_ was _in that moment._

_Ryan could do all but smile before looking at his steering wheel, trying to find a way to turn this conversation - this feeling - into some stupid jab. Then Shane mentioned that they could call him Ryan ‘Boogara’ Bergara and suddenly everything seemed right once more._

Ryan Bergara. The man who had saved his life time and time again. The man who was going to die all because of Shane Madej.

“Tick tock, Shane.”

Shane took a deep breath and looked away from Ryan.

“Give me the gun.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't look at him yet for he was almost certain his heart would break and his knees would collapse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, here we go.
> 
> everyone go and check out @thenightcrawly on tumblr who made me a moodboard for this story!

“Give me the gun.”

 

**Ryan**

Ryan’s head snaps up at the words and he’s looking at Shane like he’s already pulled the trigger. All his mind can think is _what the fuck_ and _this can’t be real,_ because after everything they’ve been through together in the short span of knowing one another, Ryan would never expect Shane to take the easy way out. Shoot Ryan and walk out the door? Shane wouldn’t. He _wouldn’t._ Ryan knew it. He knew Shane would rather die himself than give McClintock something he wanted. This had to be part of some plan that he was forming.

Then Shane was on his feet, one of the men having cut his ties and pulled him up from the seat. McClintock handed him the gun.

“Shane, please-“

_“Shut the fuck up.”_

Ryan was nervous now. Ryan was nervous in a way that he hadn’t been in a very long time. This was not how he had envisioned himself going out. He’d pictured a high speed car chase, an intense shootout or a brutal bar fight. He’d pictured something bloody and fierce and _him._ Kneeling on the floor, his head pounding and his wrists bound, completely helpless, was not what he had in mind.

Shane turned, looking over the gun, feeling the weight in his hands before finally looking down at Ryan. From his position on the floor, all Ryan could think was that the height difference between them seemed ridiculous now. He expected some form of sorrow in his eyes, some form of emotion that proved to Ryan that this was all a trick and that he had to be ready, but there was nothing. Shane’s face was completely blank.

 _Please, have a plan, be a trick, you fucking owe me._ Ryan could feel anger rising now, especially as Shane aimed the gun at his face. After everything Ryan had done to help Shane, to keep him alive, he was just going to simply shoot him like a dog. His jaw tightened and suddenly he was glaring up at the man he had considered a friend.

Shane simply stared back. “Any last words?”

It was so fucking cliche and movie-like that Ryan had the urge to let out a laugh. A bitter laugh that showed exactly how he felt. But he didn’t. Instead, he straightened up, made dead eye contact with Shane and said “You better not miss.”

If Shane felt anything towards those words, he didn’t show it. He cocked the gun.

 

**Shane**

“Give me the gun.”

He saw Ryan move in the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look at him. He couldn’t. This had to be believable. His heart was pounding in his chest as one of McClintock’s men walked behind him and cut the zip ties keeping him down. They helped him to his feet and he rubbed his raw wrists.

McClintock had the gun in his hand and a smug smile on his face. Shane wanted nothing more than to take one of the knives from the desk and jam it as far down the mans throat as he could. But he didn’t. He stuck to glaring daggers at the man as he took the gun from him. Shane felt his fingers brush against McClintock’s and he almost gasped due to the man’s chilled flesh.

He had forgotten how cold he always seemed to be. Even in the summer, when they’d take Holly down to the beach and the sun would scorched their skin, McClintock stood with his jacket wrapped around him. It was a joke between the three of them that McClintock was secretly dead. Shane believed it more than ever as he looked into his eyes.

Shane closed his eyes, let himself calm down enough to put on a good show before turning back to face Ryan. He didn’t look at him yet for he was almost certain his heart would break and his knees would collapse. He heard his voice though, a plea of-

“Shane, please-“

_“Shut the fuck up.”_

He was never one to snap at people. Ryan knew that and Shane could only hope that the other man was catching onto his plans. He finally looked Ryan in the face, forcing his own to be as unreadable as he could for the sake of one of McClintock’s men who stood next to Ryan. He lifted the gun, surprised at how steady his hands were.

“Any last words?”

He could see the glare in Ryan’s eyes and the fierceness of his clenched jaw. God, how he must hate him. He wouldn’t soon though - soon he would see that this had to be done to get them out of here. They would walk out the front door together, aching and smiling and so alive that Shane could taste it. Ryan just had to trust him.

“You better not miss.”

With that, Shane took a breath and cocked the gun. Then he turned his wrist in a swift motion, aiming the barrel of the gun at the man standing next to Ryan and pulled the trigger.

 

-

 

Now, if you’re a fan of movies and fiction then you’ll know that there’s a point in the story where our beloved protagonist does an action and the whole story seems to slow down. Take firing a gun, for example. As soon as the trigger is pulled, time seems to hardly move as the bullet erupts from the gun and slowly makes it’s way to it’s target. Nobody moves. Or, maybe they do, but a bullet moves so fast that slowing it down causes everything else to appear frozen in time as they watch. As they wait. And just as the bullet is about to pierce skin, it freezes, and rewinds and the scene replays in real time and the bullet moves so damn fast that you blink and you miss it. But as it’s a movie, or fiction, you get to rewatch or reread until the end of time, because as the audience that moment will exist for as long as the dvd burns or the ink is on the page. And all you can do is rewatch or reread.

This is not what happens when you fire a gun. This is not what happens when you fire a gun with no bullets in it.

When Shane pulls the trigger, nothing happens. For a moment, he thinks the gun is jammed and he pulls it again, and then again and again until that man has stepped forward, taken the gun with ease and knocked him across the jaw with it. Shane stumbles backwards, trips over the chair and lands on the floor.

There’s a ringing in his ears but nothing could block out the sound of McClintock’s laughter. “Wow! You know, for a second I really thought you were going to shoot him.”

Shane’s looking at Ryan now and the other mans expression has softened. All Ryan can think is _I knew you wouldn’t do it,_ and while there’s a soft fondness towards Shane in his chest, another emotion is battling it for dominance. Determination. Shane wasn’t going to let Ryan die without a fight, so a fight is what they’d give them.

McClintock continues his taunts, becoming more like an antagonist with every word, so he doesn’t notice the small nod that Ryan gives Shane, or the slight shift of Shane’s position on the floor.

And then Ryan is up, charging towards the man hovering over Shane and barrelling into him with all his weight. The man stumbles, caught off guard and trips over the chair like Shane had. Both the chair and the man fall to the floor. Shane takes that as his cue, he scrambles to his feet as the other guy seems to be frozen in shock and he heads straight for the table of different weapons and instruments. He doesn’t even look at his options, just grabs something big and sharp and grips it like his life depends on it, because it does.

This was going to be it. Whatever was about to happen in this house would be the end of this game. Shane could only hope that he and Ryan made it out with their lives. There was an odd silence to the room, McClintock had stopped his evil monologue and slipped from the study the second Ryan was on his feet. They’d deal with that later. Right now, it was Ryan and Shane and the two brain-dead goons in-front of them.

Shane kept his focus on the man that he was up against, trusting Ryan to hold his own. He swiped forward with the knife, his will to live overpowering his fear. The man in his sights jolted backwards with every move Shane made before he suddenly ran forward, hands going for Shane’s wrist and slamming him backwards against the wall. Or, a bookcase, Shane realised, as books rained from above, sharp corners and tough edges hailing down like stones. Shane took the moment to struggle, trying to use the new distraction as a way to get out from under his opponents weight, but soon the books ceased to fall and he was pulled forward and slammed back into the shelf again. His head hit the wood with a smack, and he had a sudden flashback to the fight at the motel. The fight which they had won. With a cry, he used all his strength to push forward and force his hand that had been pinned next to his head and still held the knife down to his side. He jerked forward and the man tripped, surprised by Shane’s sudden brute force, and sent them both down to the floor.

Shane wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, or how, but he found himself straddling the man. The knife was plungedto the handle, deep in the man’s flesh and the same crimson red colour that he’d seen before was pooling in the wound and slowly trailing towards the floor. Shane thought he’d feel something. He thought he’d feel sick or regret, because that’s a human life he’s just ended, but it was either him or Shane and all he could think of right now was Ryan laughing at the phrase ‘it doesn’t really go with the rest of the decorating’ as he stared into the deep red. Ryan. His brain kicked into action and he jumped up, pulling the knife out with a sickly pop and looking across the room at his friend.

Ryan had always believed he was quite lucky. His flights were never delayed, he never got caught shoplifting, his car had never broken down and he’d even won the lottery twice. So the fact that the six foot plus guy he was up against hadn’t killed him yet was another thing to add to his lucky streak. With his arms still bound behind him, all Ryan could really do was use his body to ram the man away from him, or dodge the blows that kept coming. Being shorter made that one easier, but the man was relentless and Ryan could do nothing to slow him down other than a few kicks backwards and a duck under his arms. He raised his foot and kicked out once more, but the man had caught on to all that Ryan could do, and he clamped his hands down on Ryan’s leg, using his foot to sweep Ryan’s other leg out from underneath him. Ryan hit the floor and he groaned, a burning pain going straight to his ribs that he recognised from previous bar fights. With his vulnerable position, it was easy for the violent man to place kick upon kick into Ryan’s already sore body, and all he could do was lay there and take it. After a while, he made a move to use his legs and slide his body backwards across the floorboards, but the blue tarp stuck to his clothes and made him immobile. The man stepped over his body, one foot either side of Ryan’s chest and a nasty smile on his face as he bent down and wrapped a hand in the front of Ryan’s shirt, pulling him up slightly off the floor. “Where do you think you’re g-“

Then the man was choking on his words as the point of a knife erupted through the front of his neck. Warm, sticky blood dripped down onto Ryan’s face and his clothes and he was suddenly let go as the knife disappeared and the man fell limply to the side to reveal Shane.

Shane, who he was so certain was going to kill him to save himself. Shane, who had just killed two men to save Ryan.

Shane pulled Ryan to his feet, quickly spun him around and cut his hands free with the bloody knife in his hand. Ryan turned to face him and for a moment they were the only two beings to exist. A million things seemed to be said within the silence that they shared, and Ryan brought up a heavy hand to lay on Shane’s shoulder. “Let’s finish this.”

They both grabbed two of the weapons from the desk, one in each hand. They had no idea who was left in the house or what they were armed with. Ignoring their pains and injuries, they left the study.

“You think he left the house?”

Ryan’s voice broke the silence from behind Shane, and he shook his head. “No. He wants this to be over just as much as we do. You look upstairs, I’ll check down here.”

Ryan wanted to ask what they were going to do with him when they found him, but he wasn’t completely sure that Shane knew himself. Instead, he silently made his way up the marble stairs, memory flicking back to being here with Shane before.

Shane made his way past the stairs, further down the corridor and into the main living room. He tried his best to ignore the memories of playing video games with Banjo, or watching movies with Holly. They’d been such a perfect group. He let his mind wander to what would have happened if he’d agreed to go along with the two of them, if he’d agreed to go ‘bigger’. Horsely would still be alive, happily in love with McClintock, and McClintock would still smile at Shane the way he used to, a fond hand on his shoulder, and Shane. He didn’t know what he would be. Maybe he’d be content with their situation. Or maybe it would have ended bad and bloody. Maybe they would have got caught up in a heist, and been torn apart by police. Maybe they would have torn each other apart first. If all it took was Shane’s disagreement for them to turn on him, then who knows what would have happened when more money and power came into play. Shane knew one thing, though, he would never have met Ryan.

That was enough for Shane to be certain that everything he was doing right now was okay. Ryan may be short tempered, and he may be able to kill people and dig graves easier than the average person, but Ryan was good. And good was good enough.

There was a sudden weight on his back and a roar in his ear and his knees almost gave out, but he caught himself as his weapons were knocked from his hands. He reached up and gripped the person that was clung to him, using all his strength to throw them forward. There was a flash of tweed and a grunt as they hit the floor, and then the person was up.

McClintock stared straight into Shane’s face, a dangerous glint in his eye. His knees were slightly bent, as if he was ready to lunge forward at any moment. Then he smiled, a sly smirk that had Shane feeling uneasy. “You haven’t got a chance.”

After all the years he’d spent by McClintock’s side, he was almost offended by the amount of doubt in his voice. He swallowed his anxiety and spat out a ‘fuck off’ before charging forward.

They both toppled backwards, a mahogany table holding a lamp going over with them. Then it was just a blur of fists and kicks and limbs all flailing and trying to get the upper hand. Shane felt a knee connect with his ribs, felt his elbow slam into something hard and heard a shout of pain in response. Suddenly, he was on top of McClintock, raining down blow after blow into any part of his body he could. McClintock had his hands in Shane’s face and neck, trying to do anything to throw him off. With a sudden buck of his hips, McClintock threw Shane to the side and scrambled to his feet. Shane slammed his head into the floor from the force, his ears ringing once more, but he urged his body to get up. He slowly made his way to his feet, turning to McClintock and seeing that he was now staring down the barrel of a gun.

“This one’s actually loaded.” The smirk in his voice was unmissable. Shane sighed. He really thought they had this. He could only hope that Ryan had made it out and was long gone by now. McClintock continued.

“I should have fucking killed you back at that restaurant. Lord knows I could have done it. You always were weak.”

“If you’re going to kill me just get on with it.” He was bored of this game.

“Just get on with it? You kill our friend and take my money and expect me to kill you quickly?” McClintock laughed - a horrible sound, really. “You always were funny, Shane.”

Shane shook his head, chest warm with anger. His words came out in spits. “She wasn’t my friend. Neither were you. Not anymore. I lost any loyalty I had towards either of you the second you decided to betray me.”

McClintock’s face hardened at his words. He somehow still saw Shane as the bad guy in all of this. “Well. I guess that’s it then. Goodbye Shane.”

The now familiar click of a cocking gun echoed around the silent room and Shane found himself suddenly in the middle of a movie. He didn’t shut his eyes, though. They always close their eyes and brace themselves for the impact in movies. Shane didn’t do that. He kept his eyes open and his glare burning as he looked into the face of the man he hated.

Then McClintock was slammed forward, Shane barely dodging out the way as he flew across the room and landed on the floor with a hard crack. The gun skidded across the floor. Shane whipped his head round to see what had been the source of the attack and found himself looking at Ryan. There was a burst of emotion in his chest, a mixture of relief and such a burning fondness that Shane could have burst out crying. He snapped out of his thoughts and quickly crossed the room to the gun, picking it up.

They weren’t out of this yet.

McClintock lifted himself into a kneeling position on the floor, a low groan erupting from his throat. He glanced up and looked at the pair of them. He had the audacity to laugh and Shane found it very easy to point the gun at his face. McClintock sneered, his voice coming out thick and gravelly in the famous last words of “You won’t fucking do it.”

_Yes. Yes he fucking would._

“Tell Holly I said hi.”

And then Shane pulled the trigger.

 

-

 

Shane’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckes were turned white beneath the layer of dried, cracked blood that coated them.

With McClintock dead, they’d left the house pretty quickly, jumping into one of the many cars that were on the driveway and flooring it away from the scene. It was oddly silent, apart from the soft hisses that either of them would make whenever they shifted slightly in their seats. Shane had many things he wanted to say to Ryan, but he wasn’t sure that he could form the right words to get his points across. Luckily, Ryan spoke first.

“Tell Holly I said hi.” Ryan muttered the words quietly, breaking the silence in the car. He chuckled slightly, his body not to happy with the sudden vibration of his chest. “I’m telling you, you belong on a stage.”

And then they were laughing, a deep, raw laughter that had their bones just begging them to shut the fuck up, but they refused. They were hurt, but they were okay and they were together and they were alive. That was more than either of them had expected to get away with. “So, I’d say you owe me now that I’ve saved your life and got you a new car.”

Ryan frowned mockingly at that. “A new car? Fuck off mate, I’d never replace mine.”

Shane laughed. “Dude, I’m literally begging you to get any other form of vehicle.”

“Tell you what, you save my life one more time and then I’ll consider it.”

Shane nodded, laughing softly. Their laughter died down and they fell into a more comfortable silence as they drove back along the road they met and into the heart of the town.

 

-

 

It was just breaking dawn by the time they found where they’d left Ryan’s car parked. They were thankful for the early time and the fact that nobody would be around, they looked a state, both of them bruised and messy and covered in blood. Ryan fiddled with his keys in his hand, standing by the drivers door and turned to face Shane. “So.”

“So.”

“This was fun, I guess.”

Shane smiled slightly. “We should do it again sometime.”

Ryan nodded and glanced at Shane’s face, not quite meeting his eyes. After everything that had happened, so much had been left unsaid, so many questions left unanswered. It had seemed like life and death back at the house, hell, it fucking was, but now, both of them alive and kicking, everything they wanted to say seemed so insignificant. Ryan glanced up one more time, doing his best to ignore the sadness in Shane’s face and hoping that his didn’t look the same. “Take care of yourself, Shane.”

“You too, Ryan.”

And with that, Ryan got in his car, started the engine and took off driving. Shane was almost certain he could feel the sadness weighing down on his chest. He thought back to before, when Ryan was going to leave him after they’d buried that body. He remembered the little story that ran through his head. The story of two lovers pulled apart by disapproving families. He remembered how he thought that he would run home in the rain and collapse on his bed, sobbing into his diary about how life just isn’t fair.

There was no chance of that now. Shane didn’t have a home to run in the rain to. With a deep longing in his chest, Shane thought of how his new found home was currently driving away from him. This was it, then. Twelve days. Or, twelve nights because it was never fucking daytime in this fucking town. Twelve nights and it had been more eventful than all the years that had led to it. Twelve nights of danger and violence and company so good that Shane was convinced it was worth it. Twelve nights and he was alone again.

He sighed, wincing slightly as he did before turning to start walking back into town. There was a motel bed somewhere with his name on it.

Then he heard the sound of tires stopping on gravel and he turned so fast he could have got whiplash. The car door opened and the person stepped out.

And there was Ryan. His hair a mess and his face dirty. His clothes were darkened with blood. He looked taller somehow. He rested a hand on the roof of his car and turned, catching Shane’s eye. A small, fond smile played on his lips.

“Get in the damn car, Shane.”

Well, Shane couldn’t say no to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. there you have it. 
> 
> I hope this ending satisfies everyone that's read this. I had the ending figured out before half of the middle plot. 
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you for reading and giving kudos and bookmarking and commenting. Honestly, if it weren't for all of you constantly telling me how much you all like this, I probably wouldn't have finished it. So, I owe Hitchhikers to every single one of you.
> 
> With this now over, I'll probably be writing some other things, if any of you want to stick around for that. I plan on finishing my axeman fic if you want to check that out, and I reckon I'll make something new alltogether, whether that will be bfu or one of my many other fandoms, i've got no idea. 
> 
> Again, thank you all so much and I hope this ending does the rest of the fic justice.  
> Thank you.  
> -Signifier (Courtney)  
> <3


	13. prequel maybe??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back on my bullshit yall

hey guys!! 

signifier here, its been a while

HAPPY NEW YEAR

anyway so im thinking of making a prequel to this story, and i was wondering if people would be interested?? it’d be heavily focused on just one of the boys, im thinking Ryan as Hitchhikers was more of Shane’s time to shine. it wouldn’t be a lot, just a few chapters of the days leading up to ryan meeting shane

watcha think?? lemme know if u’d wanna read it! drop me some things u’d like to see, any plotholes u want explaining or loose ends that need to be tied up somehow!

to all of my new readers (as for some reason this story still gets kudos everyday) hi! welcome! thank you so much for reading! nd to all of my old readers, whats up?? hows life treating yall??

im still amazed by the support that this story has gotten and continues to get, it really makes my heart happy thank u all so much

guess i’ll be talking to some of u soon nd i’ll keep u updated!! 

if u have any questions or screaming u wanna throw my way my tumblr is sig-nifier, i’d love to talk to u!!

thank u again for reading nd we’ll see what happens lads

\- signifier

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I love reading everyone's comments, so feel free to leave one!  
> You can also find me on tumblr as @sig-nifier don't be afraid to message me I'd love to talk to any of you!


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